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Saint Ignatius Asks, "Are You Sure 
You Know Who I Am?" 



Joseph Veale, S.J. 



X3701 .S88* ONL PER 

tudies in the spirituality of Jesuits.. [St. Loui 

>sue: v.33:no.4(2001:Sept.) 

jrivalDate: 10/12/2001 

Boston College Libraries 




33/4 • SEPTEMBER 2001 



THE SEMINAR ON JESUIT SPIRITUALITY 

The Seminar is composed of a number of Jesuits appointed from their provinces in 
the United States. 

It concerns itself with topics pertaining to the spiritual doctrine and prac- 
tice of Jesuits, especially United States Jesuits, and communicates the results to the 
members of the provinces through its publication, STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF 
JESUITS. This is done in the spirit of Vatican II's recommendation that religious 
institutes recapture the original inspiration of their founders and adapt it to the 
circumstances of modern times. The Seminar welcomes reactions or comments in 
regard to the material that it publishes. 

The Seminar focuses its direct attention on the life and work of the Jesuits 
of the United States. The issues treated may be common also to Jesuits of other 
regions, to other priests, religious, and laity, to both men and women. Hence, the 
journal, while meant especially for American Jesuits, is not exclusively for them. 
Others who may find it helpful are cordially welcome to make use of it. 



CURRENT MEMBERS OF THE SEMINAR 

William A. Barry, S.J., directs the tertianship program and is a writer at Cam- 
pion Renewal Center, Weston, MA (1999). 

Robert L. Bireley, S.J., teaches history at Loyola University, Chicago, IL (2001) 

James F. Keenan, S.J., teaches moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of Theol- 
ogy, Cambridge, MA (2000). 

Lawrance J. Madden, S.J., directs the Georgetown Center for Liturgy, Spiritual- 
ity, and the Arts, Washington, DC (2001) 

Douglas W. Marcouiller, S.J., teaches economics at Boston College, Chestnut 
Hill, MA (2000). 

G. Ronald Murphy, S.J., teaches German language and literature at Georgetown 
University, Washington, DC (2001) 

Thomas P. O'Malley, S.J., is associate dean of arts and sciences and teaches in 
the honors program at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA (2000). 

John W Padberg, S.J., is chairman of the Seminar, editor of STUDIES, and direc- 
tor and editor at the Institute of Jesuit Sources (1986). 

William R. Rehg, S.J., teaches philosophy at St. Louis University, St. Louis, 
MO (2000). 

The opinions expressed in STUDIES are those of the individual authors thereof. 
Parentheses designate year of entry as a Seminar member. 

Copyright © 2001 and published by the Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality 
3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108 
(Tel. 314-977-7257; Fax 314-977-7263) 



a 



Saint Ignatius Asks, 
Are You Sure You Know 
Who I am?" 



Joseph Veale, SJ. 



STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF JESUITS 

33/4 • SEPTEMBER 2001 



Of all things . . . 



You may be interested in this example of what could never happen in the 
Society of Jesus— but did. At one time in the past a Jesuit superior general appointed 
a novice to govern the Society of Jesus. Who was the general? Who was the novice? 
What were the circumstances? The answers to those questions you will find at the 
end of these remarks — but no skipping ahead to them, please! 

As I thank the members of the Seminar who have completed their three- 
year term, Richard Blake, Philip Chmielewski, Richard Hauser, and Thomas Lucas, 
please join me in welcoming the new members. They are Robert Bireley, professor of 
history at Loyola University in Chicago; Lawrence Madden, former pastor of Holy 
Trinity Parish in Washington and presently director of the Georgetown Center for 
Liturgy, Spirituality, and the Arts; and G. Ronald Murphy, professor of German 
language and Liturgy at Georgetown. 

And here, surely, is the place to recognize another person who five times a 
year for more than a dozen years now has done the copy-editing of every STUDIES 
manuscript. As you might imagine, those manuscripts come from writers each of 
whom has his own quirks, both positive and negative. He has also regularly prepared 
the camera-ready material that finally emerges as the copies of STUDIES that you hold 
in your hands and read. That man is John L. McCarthy, S.J., a member of the 
Wisconsin Province and an associate editor at the Institute of Jesuit Sources. Without 
him, STUDIES would not be what it is. Thank you, John! 

Whatever one may presently think of the matter, Bishop Felix Davidek and 
Ludmila Javorova most surely thought that on December 29, 1970, at Brno, Czecho- 
slovakia, he ordained her to the Roman Catholic priesthood. This remarkable story 
has been told in a recently published book, Out of the Depths, by Miriam Therese 
Winter (New York: Crossroad, 2001, 260 pp.). It is a deeply moving account of love 
and fidelity to the Church in the context of forty years of Communist persecution, 
of imagination and daring in the midst of danger and ambiguity, and, above all, of 
extraordinary personal commitment. Because it is not a scholarly historical treatise, 
the book leaves the historian with questions to be answered and corroborative 
material to be provided. A full-blown scholarly study ought to be undertaken before 
documents vanish, memories fade, and participants die. But on its own merits this 
book is very much worth reading and pondering. 

Felix Davidek, ordained a priest in 1945 at the beginning of the Commu- 
nist takeover of Czechoslovakia, later imprisoned, sometimes in solitary confinement, 
released, and routinely under surveillance, nonetheless managed to found Koinotes, a 
clandestine community of committed Catholics. In 1967 he was validly but secretly 
ordained a bishop. (As early as 1951 other bishops had been secretly ordained, among 
them two Jesuits. One of these, Jan Korec, is today Cardinal Bishop of Nitra in 
Slovakia.) 



in 



Javorova was among those most deeply involved in sustaining the Koinotes 
community and fostering the pastoral work of Davidek. In 1970 after a contentious 
meeting of Koinotes representatives who were divided on the question of women 
priests, Davidek carried out the rite of ordination on Javorova. For twenty years, up 
to the "Velvet Revolution" and the fall of Communism in Czechoslovakia, the 
Koinotes community carried on its work. Then news of unusual ordinations gradu- 
ally came to the attention of Church leaders in the West. They have since, to use an 
anodyne phrase, sought to "regularize the situation." Ludmila Javorova only reluc- 
tantly made her story public in recent years. As told in this book, it is a story of 
both simplicity and complexity, of beauty and astonishing dignity. 

From the Institute of Jesuit Sources comes a new book, A Guide to Jesuit 
Archives (x + 178 pp, $19.95). It presents data on the official archives of the ninety 
provinces and independent regions of the Society of Jesus on every continent as well 
as data on the central or Roman archives of the Society. The book opens up and 
enhances research opportunities around the world for scholars and others in a great 
variety of fields. Another announcement of interest: Did you know that the IJS has 
its own Website now, < www.jesuitsources.com > ? It will give you the opportunity 
to order our publications online. Visit us there; we'll be happy to welcome you. 

Did you jump ahead to this last paragraph? Did you guess or deduce or 
already know the answers to the questions in the first paragraph? The general was St. 
Ignatius. The novice was Cristobal de Madrid. The circumstances were the increas- 
ingly frequent illness of Ignatius in 1556, the year of his death. Madrid, a priest 
before entering the Society in 1555, had been a friend of Ignatius and, indeed, a 
consultant or advisor to him for several years. After Madrid had been a novice for 
only a few days, Ignatius demonstrated his confidence in him by appointing him to 
work with Andre des Freux, the rector of the German College, to quell a sort of 
mutiny there among the students who had rebelled when Ignatius ordered them to 
speak Italian at the college rather than their native German. Apparently Madrid 
pleased Ignatius by the skill with which he carried out this delicate mission, because 
in June of the next year, 1556, when Ignatius was so ill that he could no longer 
occupy himself with the work of general of the Society, he temporarily turned over 
all his governance powers to Polanco and Madrid. That presented a problem, to say 
the least, because Ignatius had earlier named Nadal as vicar general, and Borgia in 
Spain also seems to have had full governing powers, at least for that country. The 
situation became even more complicated, of course, when, upon the death of Igna- 
tius, Lainez was elected vicar general, in accordance with the Constitutions. But 
Lainez was at this time on the point of death and, until his recovery, he used Polan- 
co and Madrid just as Ignatius had. When Lainez later was elected the second general 
of the Society, Madrid became one of the assistants. He was also (in 1556) the first 
Jesuit to write a book advocating frequent Communion, a controverted position then 
and for the next several centuries and one that brought considerable trouble to the 
Society from the more rigorist theologians and prelates. 



John W. Padberg, SJ. 
Editor 

iv 



CONTENTS 



A Note to Introduce What Comes After 1 



Ignatius Speaks 



Appendix 1 33 



Appendix 2 35 



V 



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1 



Marian Cowan, C.S.J., and 
John Carroll Futrell, S.J. 

Companions in Grace 

A Handbook for Directors of the Spiritual 
Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola 

A guide and companion for those who direct others in 
making the Spiritual Exercises. A new edition of a 1980 
classic, by two outstanding experts in the field. Each of 
the four Weeks of the Exercises is treated in detail, and 
the book includes sections on Ignatius's rule for dis- 
cernment, directing an eight-day retreat, the 
nineteenth-annotation retreat, annotation eighteen, and 
more. 

Paper ISBN 1-880810-38-7 
pp. vii + 249: $18.95 

Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 
(Trans. Anand Amaladass, S.J., and Francis X. Clooney, S.J.) 

Preaching Wisdom to the Wise 

Three Treatises by Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 

How should the Christian faith be communicated to a 
non-European culture? Roberto de Nobili was one of 
the earliest Jesuit missionaries to address this question. 
This book gives three of de Nobili' s treatises, classic 
early examples of a move toward what would now be 
called "inculturation," as well as an introduction by the 
translators that both critiques de Nobili' s approach and 
appreciates his greatness. 



Paper ISBN 1-880810-37-9 
pp. xxii + 345: $29.95 



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Saint Ignatius Asks, "Are You Sure 
You Know Who I Am? 55 



A Note to Introduce What Comes After 

A few years ago, in a fit of high spirits I wrote "Saint Ignatius Speaks 
about Ignatian Prayer." 1 I thought it might be illuminating to have 
him speak to us in a relaxed way, as it were, conversationally. This 
is a kind of sequel. It asks: How can we be sure we know the real Ignatius? 
How do we find the authentic original spirit? 

When it eventually becomes possible to write the history of Jesuit 
spirituality, it will have to show how the fortunes of a spiritual teaching like 
St. Ignatius's are influenced by the different cultures it lives through, by the 
currents of secular mood and thinking, as well as by the religious culture of 
different times, by the spiritual traditions of different continents, by the 
Church's ever changing self-understanding, by a dominant theological style, 
by the aspirations and needs of the people of God, by passing religious 
fashions, by the fears that move authorities— and by the deeper movements 
of the Spirit of God as well. 

It is sobering to glance at the variations of interpretation in the 
history of the Society that have arisen in the course of more than four and a 
half centuries — just as has happened in the Church and in any human 
institution. If a new generation prides itself on getting it right, it can be 



1 See Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 28, no. 2 (March 1996). 



Joseph Veale, S.J., a member of the Irish Province, has taught English literature 
at Gonzaga College in Dublin and has been the director of the tertianship program for 
the Irish Province as well as of the combined program for the Irish and British Provinces 
of the Society. He has written extensively and worked in the field of Ignatian spirituality, 
directing the Spiritual Exercises in Europe, North America, and Africa. His address is 
Milltown Park, Dublin 6, Ireland. 



2 •!• Joseph Veale, SJ. 

healthily chastened when it looks at history and observes how earlier 
dominant orthodoxies failed to question themselves or to listen to a different 
voice. It is good for us to stop from time to time and to ask each other, 
"Whom are we currently writing off?" 

"There are no static answers to questions of historical authenticity." 
Those words of Fr. John W. O'Malley are the conclusion and the beginning 
of these reflections. To highlight that borrowing from him is to say how 
much these musings are indebted to all his writings and shared conversation. 
He is not guilty of the misuses of his wisdom. 

Conversation lets us move with a certain ease from one train of 
thought to another. We are not under constraint to present a structured 
argument. When we do, the company dozes. Conversation invites a kind of 
musing on things and does not lend itself to a text broken up into divisions 
and subdivisions. Instead, ideas flow, as it were, in and out of each other. 
They interweave and surprise us by what they recall or suggest. They take 
off in unplanned directions. Conversation is allowed to meander or to 
retrace its steps. It invites us to go back on our tracks, to take up something 
we asserted before and to look on it in a new light. It allows us to say, 
"Now that I think of it, maybe I should have put it this way." Conversation 
is comfortable with contradictions. 

So, now, may we be allowed to suppose that St. Ignatius is in 
conversation with us in the first decade of the new century. 

Ignatius Speaks 

When I lean over the parapet and take a look at what Jesuits are 
up to, I am puzzled when I see myself. I mean when I see what 
Jesuits have made of me. In this last half century, I feel like 
someone who has been dismantled and reassembled. I've become a congenial 
and warmhearted member of a group of companions who were friends in 
the Lord. 

Well, fair enough. But it was not like that fifty years ago. Then I 
was stern, more than a little inhuman, a soldier, militant, militaristic, an 
organizer of genius on soldierly lines, a martinet expecting prompt and 
unquestioning execution, a proposer of blind obedience, not greatly given to 
feeling or affection, rational, a man of steely willpower, hard in endurance, 
with his sensibility (if there was any of that there at all) under control. 
Heroic. That was it. I was a hero. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" 



People need heroes. I suppose every generation re-creates its heroes 
in its own image. Religious orders are no exception. The stern and strong- 
willed man had a long run for his money. That image may have helped 
many a man alone in the jungle or in the boredom of the classroom. It was 
the picture by and large that was dominant since our Society was restored 
(1814) and reestablished under Fr. General Jan Roothaan (1829-53). It goes 
even further back to the time of Fr. Claudio Aquaviva (1581-1615) and even 
earlier. The first published biography— the one Fr. Pedro Ribadeneira, who 
had lived and worked closely with me, wrote with enthusiasm soon after I 
died — did not please and a new biography was commissioned. 2 It was around 
that time that Fr. General Francis Borgia required all the manuscript copies 
of the story of my pilgrimage to be returned to Rome. 3 You were already 
painting an official portrait that was composed through the lens of what you 
saw yourself to be. 

I cannot say I recognize myself. We don't know ourselves too well, 
do we? Certainly we do not know what people are going to make of us 
when we are gone. You have only to listen to any group relating what 
happened last week to hear the disparate versions of the same event. It 
makes you wonder, doesn't it? There are axes to grind. You wonder at the 
way history gets written. 

The newer version of me, the Inigo one, the one that has grown 
since you began to go back to reflect on the beginnings of it all— since, say, 
the 1960s— is softer than the older picture. That document that Fr. da 
Camara put together from what he remembered of my telling him "how 
God had dealt with my soul" (what you often call my autobiography, when 
it wasn't, was it?) has been mulled over a lot these last forty years. I'm well 
aware that that has been done with affection. 

What you have discovered by looking at so many more of my 
writings, my letters, and the fragment of my spiritual journal that has 



Ribadeneira appointed himself as Ignatius's Boswell: "Inside and outside the 
house, within the city and away from it, I was never away from his side on every occasion 
I could, noticing all his manners, sayings and actions" (quoted in Jose Ignacio Tellechea 
Idigoras, Ignatius of Loyola the Pilgrim Saint [Chicago, 1994], 8). It is surprising, then, that 
Ignatius chose Luis Goncalves da Camara to record his story. 

In 1567 Borgia requested that all the manuscript copies of da Camara's text be 
sent to Rome. Borgia wanted whatever was published to be edifying. It seems fairly certain 
that a first chapter, the story of the saint's sins, was ' shredded. Idigoras says that 
Ribadeneira's biography was selective. He omitted the confession of sins to a layman at 
Pamplona, which appears in the autobiography. Idigoras says that Ribadeneira omitted 
what would have shown Ignatius's independence from the social and political environment 
of his age {Pilgrim Saint, 23). 



4 4* Joseph Veale, SJ. 

survived, along with comments made by my contemporaries, is a man of 
feeling, often given to tears, of daring imagination, something of a dreamer, 
a man of sensitive self-awareness, attending to the subtle movements of his 
sensibility, a man of strong emotions, with a gift for friendship and affec- 
tion. You have even noticed that they used to hear shared laughter coming 
from my office. 

I observe that you often like to bring into your homilies, or, God 
help us, your annual panegyrics, the time recorded by Fr. Diego Lainez: 

The busy general was observed at prayer. . . . He used to go up to the 
terrace where he could see the open sky. He would stand there and take off 
his hat. Without stirring, he would fix his eyes on the heavens for a short 
while. Then, sinking to his knees, he would make a lowly gesture of 
reverence. After that he would sit on a bench, for his body's weakness did 
not permit him to do otherwise. There he was, head uncovered, tears 
running drop by drop, in such sweetness and silence, that not a sob, no 
sigh, no noise, no movement of body was noticed. 4 

Well, you'll have to admit that that is not like the older picture. It 
is not as though this is a touching-up of an older canvas, a shadowing here, a 
raising of a color there, but, as it seems to me, quite a different picture. A 
reversal of almost everything in the old. 

The fact of the difference raises a few questions for you. At least I 
hope it does. How do you know you have a true picture of me? 

Clearly the two pictures are incomplete. There is a good deal of 
truth in both. Most of us are a bundle of contradictions anyway, and I had 
more than my fair share of them. Your sense of history tells you that 
neither interpretation is the whole story. 5 

You have been learning how, quite soon after I died, even some of 
my closest fellow workers and friends were giving a helping hand to some of 
the myths. 6 They could not resist the temptation to beat the soldierly drum. 
My brief brush with soldiering was useful for seeing me in later years as 
military, not to say militant. And they— some of them perhaps to enlarge me 



4 Pedro de Ribadeneira, Vita Ignatii Loyola;, ed. Candidus de Dalmases, vol. 4 of 
Fontes Narrativi de s. Ignatio de Loyola (FN), vol. 93 of the Monumenta historica Societatis 
Iesu (MHSI; Rome, 1965), 747, 749. This work is cited by Charles E. O'Neill, SJ., in his 
"Acatamiento: Ignatian Reverence in History and in Contemporary Culture," STUDIES IN 
the Spirituality of Jesuits 8, no 1 (January 1976): 7. 

5 According to Idigoras, Ribadeneira characterized Ignatius as a close-tongued, 
guarded Basque who was mysterious and enigmatic, one who consciously hid himself 
behind masks, giving a certain equivocation to his words and actions {Pilgrim Saint, 23 and xi). 

6 John W. O'Malley, S.J., The First Jesuits (Cambridge, 1993). 



'Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" 



or to make me more important than I really was— liked to see drama in the 
confrontation of two giants, Luther and Ignatius. Well, really. I can't say I 
see myself in that kind of light. That particular piece of theater has distorted 
people's perceptions of the scope and purpose of the Company, at least as I 
saw it. You still find the distortion repeated in the history books as though 
it were established fact. We aspired to be less than (and more than) simply 
agents of what you used to call the Counter-Reformation. 

You were already, so soon, doing what all organizations and nations 
like to do, composing a picture that flatters them. They wanted to present 
an image of what they would like to be. Soon admiration and desire get to 
work. And now that you have made my Exercises, other influences insinuate 
themselves. Fr. Jeronimo Nadal said that my narration of God's working in 
me was "truly to form the order." 7 As he saw it, my experience would be a 
kind of paradigm for the growth in each of you, for all of you, through the 
centuries. But Fr. Nadal was not slow to paint a picture of me that sup- 
ported his conviction of what he judged the Company ought to become. 

I am not saying that these men were not genuine. Good men do not 
set out to doctor the facts. But you and I know enough of human nature to 
acknowledge that we cling to versions of ourselves and versions of the facts 
that express our feelings, that touch on our loyalties. We often paint an ideal 
in terms of what we want the facts to have been. It is not unusual, in 
loyalty or in love, to like to have a share in a person's reflected glory, to 
bask a little in his light, to present one's set-up, beloved as it may be, with a 
shade of self-congratulation. Over a period of almost five hundred years, you 
have sometimes set yourselves up to be the object of knowing smiles for 
seeking God's glory by means of the greater glory of the Society. Well, I 
don't mind that. You cannot be naive and Jesuitical at the same time. 

It has been much the same, hasn't it, with "Jesuit Spirituality"? I 
wanted to help people to know Jesus in the Gospel and to find God. I 
wanted all of us, all of you, to help them, in freedom, to be open to what- 
ever way God desired to give himself to them. 

If we have to use the term "spirituality," unsatisfactory and all as it 
is, it must be obvious that your current practice and your current vocabu- 
lary are not simple adjustments made in the teaching and practice of sixty 
years ago. There is a strong contrast between the Jesuit spirituality of those 
days and the style of spirituality now more commonly called Ignatian. The 
change cannot be captured in a sentence. But it might without too crude a 



7 Luis Gonzalez de Camara, S.J., "Acta patris Ignatii," in Fontes narrativi de s. 
Ignatio de Loyola (FN), vol. 1, ed. Dionysius Fernandez Zapico, Candidus de Dalmases, and 
Petrus Leturia, vol. 66 of the MHSI (Rome, 1951), 361. 



6 4* Joseph Veale, SJ. 

simplification be described as a shift from the antimystical to the mystical, 
from a stern ascetical regime to something more contemplative. 

I would expect you to ask: Is this change a response to fad or 
fashion, an accommodation to contemporary needs, a forcing of the evidence 
to make me say what suits a flabbier mood, to make me say what I did not 
mean to say and would not wish to have said? Is it no more than a replacing 
of a healthy asceticism with an undemanding mysticism? 

The older version had its vigorous critics from outside your circles. 
It was commonly charged against the spirituality purveyed by Jesuits that it 
was rationalist, voluntarist, Pelagian, moralistic, individualistic, desiccating. It 
was a bully. It would force the free play of the spirit into a straitjacket of 
method. Besides, it was accused of forming many religious who were anx- 
ious, scrupulous, intense, introspective, self-preoccupied. And all the while 
(since all these musings point to the ironies in all of us), it was generally 
granted that your pastoral work with laypeople, in the confessional or in the 
pulpit, was hopeful, optimistic, an allayer of scrupulosity, a dissolver of 
fears. 

After I died— indeed, I suppose, now that I think of it, before I 
died — there were differing accounts of what I intended, accounts by men 
with a desire to be true and fair. They cared that the body of the Company 
should be true to its beginnings. 

Who could better claim to know my spirit than Fr. Luis Goncalves 
da Camara? It was he who recorded the story of my pilgrimage. And his 
Memoriale is a valuable compilation of reminiscences and of sayings attribut- 
ed to me. 8 

Fr. da Camara was at the center of a contention quite early on as to 
what my spirit was really like. What was the authentic "way of proceeding" 
of the Company? Fr. da Camara and Fr. Leao Henriques, cousins, were 
confessors to the King in Portugal and to the Cardinal Infante. The cousins 
were powerful and they had no hesitation in wielding their power. They 
knew what the Company should be. It was their orthodoxy that was 
dominant in Portugal and that effectively supplanted the authority of their 
provincial. They ignored the instructions of the General, Francis Borgia, and 
Borgia's visitor, Fr. Diego Miro. 

You must have read Andrew Ross's account of this. Fr. da Camara 
insisted that 



8 Luis Goncalves da Camara, S.J., "Memoriale seu Diarium," in FN 1:508. The 
Memoriale was translated into French by Roger Tandonnet under the title Memorial (Paris, 
1966). 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" 



he knew the true Ignatian way of proceeding. . . . [He] maintained that 
leaders should guide the members of the Society along a road to perfection 
by a rigorous exertion of autocratic leadership, punishing all defects and 
failures vigorously and subduing passions by severe mortifications. Borja 
[insisted] on a mutually close understanding between superiors and juniors, 
where direction was to be per il modo soave. 

As soon as Miro had ended his period as visitor, da Camara (who had no 
authority) "swept through the province restoring the previous severe style." 9 

Who was in the right? The General, Fr. Francis Borgia, because he 
had authority and because Fr. da Camara was required to be obedient? 

It would seem so, wouldn't it? But you will recall that in my time I 
acted in ways that Fr. da Camara could have used as ammunition. It was he 
who quoted me in his Memoriale as though to praise mortification over 
prayer, and it was well known that I could be stern in imposing penances 
when something annoyed me. 10 And at times I was anything but gentle in 
my treatment of Frs. Lainez and Nadal. 

My teaching about the way to God, on the means that may help 
others to the freedom that opens them to experience God, very soon became 
a point of differing interpreta- 
tions. People could feel pas- ^— — ■— — — ^ — 



sionately about it. Soon after I - ^^ ^ ^ w . ^ Com _ 

died, there were two contend- , r , , . A , 

£ , . , , , pany should be true to its beginnings. 

ing views, one or which could r * ° ° 



crudely be called the "ascetic" B ^__ M ____^_^_^_^_ 
and the other the "mystical." 

A tension existed here, one that remained for generations. The tension was a 
mirror, of course, of what was happening in the culture of the Church and 
of religion in Europe. The culture influenced you and you influenced it. 

The disagreements among you in the 1500s and the 1600s were 
reflections of what was happening in the culture of the Catholic Church at 
that time. The story illuminates the way a dominant orthodoxy within the 
Church gains ground. Moreover, the ecclesiastical culture is blown upon by 
shifts in the world's prevailing winds, resulting in resistance to them or 
unthinking compliance with them. Or, indeed, by becoming what you hate. 



9 Andrew C. Ross, "Alessandro Valignano: The Jesuits and Culture in the East," 
in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences and the Arts, 1540-1773, ed. John W. O'Malley et al. 
(Toronto, 1999), 340. 

10 Da Camara, Memoriale, no. 195 (p. 644). See also nos. 196, 256 n. 7. 



8 * Joseph Veale, S.J. 

For the most part, the dominant assumptions were "ascetical." Some 
would say "Pelagian," another of those casual labels that beg too many 
questions and mislead as much as they give light. The dichotomy is far too 
simple, of course. No group of people— especially a group of men formed to 
think on their feet in unforeseen situations and tc have strong convictions- 
no such group can be truthfully represented in some teacher's simplifying 
distinction. Life is more complex than melodrama. The danger with a label 
is that it can be taken to exhaust the meaning, the reality, of a person or of 
a movement. And, besides, over a period of almost five hundred years, you 
have been dealing with a great variety of cultures. You have been present to 
all the diversities of human experience, from the sinfulness of holy people to 
the goodness of the sinner. You are familiar, even more than I am, with the 
contradictions of the concrete. No wonder then that some of you did not 
cleave to the dominant orthodoxy. But by and large, as I have been looking 
on, the writers who interpreted me in more contemplative terms seem for 
much of the time to have been marginal. Marginalized, perhaps. Certainly 
the orthodoxy in possession in the generations preceding Vatican Council II 
was the "ascetic" one. 

It is clear from the various early sketches of "directories" of the 
Exercises that there were many different understandings present among 
you. 11 The "ascetics" in the 1500s and early 1600s were fearful that the 
"contemplatives," especially in Spain, might weaken the apostolic character 
of the Company. All that prayer might render zeal flabby. A rugged stoicism 
uncontaminated with that nonsense about affectivity was truer to the Jesuit 
way. A Jesuit in a jungle contending with humidity and mosquitoes was not 
a picture of a "contemplative" that the imagination of those days could cope 
with. There were some of you, as you know, who would have formed 
themselves into something like a congregation of cloistered men or hermits. 
The "ascetics" were zealous to protect the tradition. The "contemplatives" 
like Fr. Alvarez (at twenty-six the spiritual director of Teresa of Avila) on 
the whole understood me better. 12 They were clear that prayer must not 
supplant the apostolate. Their ascetical teaching was as demanding as mine, 



See, for example, Martin E. Palmer, S.J., trans, and ed., On Giving the 
Spiritual Exercises (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996). 

"Balthasar Alvarez was St. Teresa's confessor from 1559 to 1564. He entered 
the novitiate in 1555, at the age of twenty-two; four years later, twenty-six years old and 
newly ordained, he became one of St. Teresa's directors. St. Teresa wrote of him, "I 
believe he is the confessor who has done me the most good." The references are given in 
E. Allison Peers, Handbook of the Life and Times of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross 
(London, 1954), 111. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?' 



possibly more so. They held that God gives contemplative gifts especially to 
those called to apostolic labors. 13 

Fairly early on, the authorities among you wished to prescribe how 
Jesuits should pray, and they insisted on a narrow understanding of " medita- 
tion. " I think they had lost sight of my way of dealing with persons "accord- 
ing to the measure of God's grace imparted to each." If I had had the word 
"mystical" to hand, I am fairly certain I would not have used it. If someone 
even now were to challenge me: "Come now, do you mean mystical in the 
strict sense or in the broad sense? Are you talking here about acquired or 
infused, ordinary or extraordinary contemplation?" I'd keep my counsel. I'd 
say it was enough to know how to respond. That it is more important to 
have the freedom to rejoice in "more spiritual visitations or fewer." 14 

I have to agree with what Fr. Balthasar Alvarez says in his relatio to 
Fr. Mercurian's visitor, who 
was in Spain to sift through 
the confusions and to recon- 



cile the contentions. There Fr. The danger with a label is that it can 
Alvarez patiently tried to con- he taken to exhaust the meaning, the 

vince him that in unitive reality, of a person or of a movement. 
grace there is a spectrum of 
degrees. I had that in mind 

when I wrote of those who "do not understand the way in which the gifts 
of grace are communicated in one and the same Spirit, . . . who do not 
know the manifold gifts of the grace of God." 15 



"God usually grants this gift of contemplation to those who have long labored 
at the purification of their hearts, at overcoming their passions and meditating on the 
truths of the Gospel, especially when they labor zealously to sanctify and save others" 
(Luis de La Puente, The Life of Father Balthasar Alvarez, chap. 14 [London, 1868], emphasis 
added). 

For the text of the Constitutions (Cons.), see, for example, The Constitutions of 
the Society of Jesus and Their Complementary Norms (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 
1996). The reference here is to no. 260. 

The whole text alluded to here runs as follows: "He blamed those masters in 
spiritual things who wanted to impose the same way that had proved useful for themselves 
in living or in prayer. This is dangerous, he used to say, and leads a man astray who does 
not know the manifold gifts of the grace of God and the varied inspirations of the Holy 
Spirit and who does not understand the way in which the gifts of grace are communicated 
in one and the same Spirit. 'For every man has his own special gift from God, the one so 
but the other so' " (Ribadeneira, Vita Ignatii, 854/5; see also: da Camara, Memoriale, no. 
677 n. 7). 



10 * Joseph Veale, SJ. 

When the "ascetics" and the "mystics" differed with one another, 
both sides were aware that the charism of the order was new and that it 
needed to be defended against assimilation to older forms of consecrated life. 
But neither group were at all clear in what the newness consisted. Neither 
side had a language. They did not have the words in which to articulate the 
difference. 

Already, before I died in 1556, the Exercises were under attack. It is 
a good example of the ways a dominant orthodoxy works. When you are 
defending a position that has not yet acquired a confident language, espe- 
cially if you are forced to use the vocabulary of your debating opponent, 
you can insensibly grant too much and be quietly taken over by what you 
set out to oppose. 

The fiercest opponents of the Exercises were two of the foremost 
Spanish theologians of the time, Melchor Cano and Tomas Pedroche. In the 
1940s a fellow Dominican, Emilio Colunga, in a study of sixteenth-century 
Spain, calls them the "intellectualists" and distinguishes them from the 
"mystics." 16 As "intellectualists" they were fearful of anything that savored of 
subjectivism. Orthodoxy would be saved by rationality. 

Fra Melchor Cano came to see me several times. In Spain he had 
come to know of the Company, and what he saw he did not like. He 
believed that only a good tree bears good fruit, so he had better check out 
the cause of it all. If a founder was not holy, the followers could not be 
harmless. Accordingly, when he was in Rome, he asked to see me, and we 
invited him to dinner. 17 

He discovered that I was a fraud. Fair enough. People had said I was 
holy. He found I was wanting in integrity. I was vain and conceited. He saw 
through to my narcissism. 18 He reported that I complained that I had been 
persecuted in Spain. I talked about revelations I had received from God. 
When the two of us called on Cardinal Farnese, I announced my arrival at 



E. Colunga, O.P., "Intelectualistas y misticos en la teologia espanola en el siglo 
XVI," Ciencia Tomista 9 and 10 (1914), cited in I. Iparraguire, Pratica de los Ejercicios de 
San Ignacio de Loyola en Vida de su Autor (Rome, 1946), 92. 

17 Terence O'Reilly, "Melchor Cano and the Spirituality of St. Ignatius Loyola," 
in Ignacio de Loyola y su tiempo, ed. Juan Plazaola (Bilbao, 1992). See also: "Melchor 
Cano's Censura y paracer contra el Instituto de los Padres Jesuitas: A Transcription of the 
British Library Manuscript," in Terence O'Reilly, From Ignatius Loyola to John of the 
Cross: Spirituality and Literature in Sixteenth-Century Spain (London: Variorum, 1995). All 
this reflection is indebted to Professor O'Reilly's article. 

18 William W. Meissner, S.J., The Psychology of a Saint (New Haven and London, 
1992). 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" + 11 



the door with a list of titles and grand connections, names that carried 
weight. "[D]e lo qual infirio el Autor habia mucho viento." I was full of wind. 

It was the Exercises that really angered him and made him fearful. 
They turn soldiers into women and caballeros into hens. They were full of 
heresy. They would subvert church and state. Jesuits urged a contemplative 
way upon all and sundry. (You would say now, some of you, "cheap 
mysticism.") In doing that, you Jesuits were lacking in realism about human 
beings; you were imprudent and undiscriminating. If you teach people how 
to pray, they will neglect their work and responsibilities. It was an error to 
hold that you can combine an active and a contemplative life. Too much 
prayer would make zeal flabby. 

It is instructive to note what Cano found particularly dangerous. 
The Exercises gave people beforehand an expectation that they would 
experience consolation and experience God. The Exercises promised experi- 
ence. That was to force God's hand. People were to learn to speak about the 
sensible graces they received. That was of the devil. Jesuits gave an excessive 
importance to conformity with God's will. What I had said about "indiffer- 
ence" was dangerous. It was a false piety and against the example of Christ. 
Cano was particularly incensed by the dangerous teaching that God deals 
directly with the soul. 19 

For men like Melchor Cano and Pedroche, strong fighters for the 
purity of the faith, anything that looked mystical was too close to the 
alumbrados for safety. They were wary of whatever gave importance to the 
interior illumination of the Spirit. 

Both of them went straight to the heart of the Exercises, and they 
found it corrupt. Pedroche's censure was accurate in pinpointing those places 
in the text that are contemplative (or, if you must, mystical). 20 He wrote 
perceptively: 

These words manifest and clearly contain and affirm and teach a proposi- 
tion that is temerarious and scandalous and heretical. . . . Preaching has no 
place, nor a preacher, to persuade [the exercitant] which particular choice 
among many goods he ought to make. ... It is clear to me that this 
doctrine belongs to the dejados and alumbrados; the written word is left 



19 SpEx 15. Cano also includes the familiar charge made against what you fear 
and hate, that your enemy is unchaste. "He mentions several cases, referring twice to the 
branch for women founded by Isabel Roser, an experiment which (he claims) ended in 
sexual licence" (O'Reilly, "Censura y paracer," 377). 

20 The term "mystical" is used in its larger sense to designate "the aspect of 
passivity that is found again and again in every interior life" (Joseph de Guibert, S.J., 
"Mystique," Revue d'Ascetique et de Mystique (RAM) 7 [1926]: 14). 



12 * Joseph Veale, SJ. 

aside, with all the teaching and doctrine which good and wise men have 
given. These men give themselves over to what the spirit and God tells 
them there in the recesses of the soul. 21 

In the first decade of the 2000s, you will not find that style unfamiliar. The 
Spirit induces nervousness in the watchdogs of theological accuracy. It is the 
natural fear of the inquisitor that when people attend to the leading of the 
Spirit, they escape control. 22 

What is interesting is that within twenty years of my death it was 

the Pedrochean theology that was becoming the dominant orthodoxy among 

Jesuits. The Jesuit spirituality of seventy years ago, as Fr. Joseph de Guibert 

presented it in his historical essay on Jesuit 

■^ ~~^~"~^^^ spirituality, is in almost all respects the 

same as that of Cano and Pedroche. 23 
You have access to the 

early documents (many of , at want to P^J ; l ,} y° u 1S l e 

r . T r . ., question or authenticity, when you look 

which I never laid my ^ , , ., £ •• • . . . 

i' , , ■ at the shirts or tradition, at the variations 

eyes on) and to the re- r j u . i u 

J ' round in your historical experience, how 

corded witness of those do you know youVe got it nght? 

who were close to me. . . . „ 

In those early times under Gener- 

^___ iiii ^^^^^^^^^^^^^_ als Francis Borgia (1565-72) and Everard 

Mercurian (1573-80) and for many decades 

thereafter, what was exercising men on different sides was the question of 

authenticity. The "ascetics" were zealous to protect the stripling Company 

from what was alienum to the true tradition and spirit. 24 There was a fear on 

the part of some that you might not be taken seriously as real "religious." 

The generals feared that the spiritualizing tendencies among some of your 

men from Spain might dilute or radically change the apostolic character of 

the charism. They may have been right. Though now looking back they 

seem to me to have overreacted. The overworked Jesuits in northern Europe 

were unlikely to be excessive in the time they gave to prayer. There were 



21 See Ignacio Iparraguirre, S.J., Pratica de los Ejercicios (Rome, 1946), 99. 

22 There is a fallacy frequently repeated in books on mysticism that mysticism is 
necessarily at odds with the institution. 

23 Joseph de Guibert, La Spiritualite de la Compagnie de Jesus: Esquisse historique 
(Rome, 1953). The author died unexpectedly in 1942. Fr. General Ledochowski was 
displeased with the manuscript. It was published eleven years later under his successor, Fr. 
John Baptist Janssens. An English translation was published in 1964, The Jesuits: Their 
Spiritual Doctrine and Practice (Chicago, 1964; St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1964). 

24 See Michel de Certeau, "La Reforme de l'interieur au temps d'Aquaviva, 1581- 
1615," Lesjesuites 55 (Paris, 1974). 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" + 13 






those among you who argued that contemplative forms of prayer were alien 
to the authentic charism. And, having a right sense that the charism is 
inseparable from, is intrinsic to, the Exercises, they insisted that it was 
improper for Jesuits to pray in any way that was not recommended there. 
What they seem to have meant by that was the method of prayer I suggested 
in the First Week of the Exercises. 25 

The second and third generations of the Company were concerned 
with protecting your authentic spirit, but they had no adequate grasp of it. 
How could they? You have access to the early documents (many of which I 
never laid my eyes on) and to the recorded witness of those who were close 
to me. The men who came after me, after I died, did not have that resource. 
They had a dwindling oral tradition and a handful of manuscripts. Your 
recent renewed grasp of the Exercises and, to some extent, of the other 
documents and stories that you call my "sources" would have been impossi- 
ble without the scholarship of the men who edited and published since 1894 
the more than one hundred volumes of the Monumenta historica. For the 
first half of this last century, the Monumenta were being quietly plumbed, 
scholars secretly burrowing away, discrediting the dominant orthodoxy of 
the generations. Since the 1960s this mining of the sources has grown 
enormously. Besides, the scholars have made a beginning in the labor of 
alerting you to the presuppositions inherent in sixteenth-century language 
and its culture. 

All this puts questions to venerable tradition. There were historians 
who saw what happened as providential. Certain directions that were taken, 
especially those determined by generals like Aquaviva and Roothaan, must 
have been the faithful evolution of my spirit. After all, those were prayerful 
and holy men and besides had the authority of office. It was not to be 
imagined that the directions they chose not to take might have been more 
authentic. A historian's imagination did not encompass a conjecture of 
discontinuity. They simply took it, as you all did in those days, that what 
was done was inevitable and irreversible. 26 

A dominant orthodoxy works by assumptions. What is simply 
taken for granted is not looked at. A weak dissident voice piping up some- 
where is not heard, or is ignored, or is swept aside in the rush. You don't 
have time. Sometimes the view in possession works because to imagine 
otherwise would threaten a fragile interior structure of security and of the 



25 This is what La Puente understands throughout his biography of Balthasar 
Alvarez. 

26 John W. O'Malley, "De Guibert and Jesuit Authenticity," Woodstock Letters, 
1966, 103-10. 



14 •!• Joseph Veale, SJ. 

person. These are all devices of the spirit of deception that (if I had been 
able to) I might have added as an observation to the material in the Exercises 
dealing with the Two Standards. Those of you who have some experience of 
directing the Exercises will be familiar with the writhings of the spirit when 
it wants to avoid looking at the truth. You will of course long since have 
seen it at work in yourselves. 

It has become a commonplace to observe that when we question 
history, the historical evidence answers us within the limitations of the 
words we use and the assumptions latent in our terminology. When a 
scholar like Fr. de Guibert was writing in the 1940s, it was not easy— indeed 
it was morally impossible— to put certain questions to the evidence or to the 
tradition. The culture did not favor a freedom to imagine things becoming 
otherwise. Consequently it did not encourage you to explore the paths of 
development that were not followed, to imagine how things might have 
been otherwise. It is not that questions were disallowed or officially forbid- 
den. That was not necessary. An orthodoxy in possession usually works in 
more subtle and undetected ways. It simply does not hear awkward ques- 
tions and they die by silence. 

So, things change. You have been through great changes these last 
fifty years. There has been a shifting of the geologic plates. The mutations of 
attitudes and understanding since the 1960s have caused pain and bewilder- 
ment to many of you. What was assumed to be immovable, what was felt 
by many to be unchangeable, set in stone, as it were, by a bright structure 
of essential concepts and eternal principles, has been shifting. Certainly 
among many of you a new orthodoxy is in place. It pays respects to experi- 
ence and history. 

One of the most subversive observations of Vatican Council II may 
have been the following: "Since the ultimate norm of religious life is the 
following of Christ as given us in the Gospel, this is to be held by all 
institutes as their supreme rule." 27 The law is there to help us draw closer to 
Christ and live up to his Gospel. When it grows to be in the way, you drop 
it. I know there were a good many among you through the centuries who 
cheerfully acted on that truth anyway. It must be difficult for a younger 
generation to imagine how some of you used to view the Gospel through 
the lenses of the scholastic categories and the theology manuals, and not the 
other way around. 

A "Pelagian" asceticism cannot stand long in the presence of the 
Gospel. It is seen for what it is and it crumbles in the light. Besides, its 



27 "Perfects caritatis," in The Documents of Vatican II, ed. Walter M. Abbott 
(New York, 1966), 468, no. 2. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 15 



. :\ 



depressing climate, its mean apprehension of God, its meager hopes and 
small expectations, its inhumanity and pessimism about what is in humanity, 
its capacity to induce a permanent aridity of the spirit, its opening to 
desolation, its anxieties and stresses, could not long survive the largeness of 
mind and the generosity of heart perceived in Lumen gentium and in its 
treatment of holiness. 28 

Looking on this last half century, I think it probable that the 
change with the most revolutionary consequences was the discovery that one 
could respectably use the word "experience." Those of you born in recent 
decades probably cannot conceive how it was before your time. No one 
imagined that experience might have anything to say to the dreadful theolog- 
ical aridities of those days. The academic orthodoxy then prevalent frowned 
on the word, if it ever entered their ken. 

But you take it for granted that making the Exercises depends on 
one's being able to articulate what God is working in a person's spirit. It 
seems incredible now that experience should have been a bad word in any 
Jesuit theologate. The dynamic of the Exercises is connected with the ability 
to be aware of what is happening in the spirit and to reflect on those 
subjective realities with the help of the one giving the Exercises. One of you, 
now a cardinal, has pointed out how both Fr. Karl Rahner and Fr. Bernard 
Lonergan found the root of their theology in the experience of the 
Exercises. 29 

By the time of Vatican II, some of you had begun to take seriously 
my directives about giving the Exercises. There had always been an aware- 
ness that it was an adaptation of the Exercises to give them to groups with a 
number of lectures each day. There was a kind of floating assumption that 
to give them to one person at a time was not practicable. 

You have discovered that it is remarkable what you learn about the 
ways of God when you spend time each day with one exercitant listening to 
his or her experience in seeking God and trying to discern together where it 
may seem the Spirit is leading. When God discloses the variety of his ways 
with human lives, the trim garden paths of the spiritual treatises begin to 
look unreliable. You are brought to wonder at the largeness and generosity 



28 "Lumen gentium," chap. 5, in Documents of Vatican II (pp. 65-72). 

"Rahner characterized his own theology as an attempt to spell out the 
implications of the experience of the Holy Spirit that St. Ignatius wished to deepen and 
clarify through the Spiritual Exercises. . . . The experience of 'being in love with God,' 
according to Lonergan, corresponds to St. Ignatius Loyola's consolation that has no cause" 
(Cardinal Avery Dulles, S.J. "Jesuits and Theology, Yesterday and Today," Theological 
Studies, 52 [1991]: 524). 



16 * Joseph Veale, SJ. 

of God's ways. He discloses himself as the sovereign master of what he does. 
He is not confined by your categories. He is no respecter of your refined 
distinctions or labels. He makes your cautions look shabby. For each he has 
his own pace. He ignores your maps and schedules. You begin to see 
methods of prayer as what they are, useful devices that may or may not be 
suitable to open this or that person to God's action. Some of the venerable 
generalizations of the tradition are seen to be useful, some false, some 
pointless. 

All that discovery and experience began to spell the end of rational- 
ism in spirituality, the poor relation of a rationalist theology, if, that is, 
rationalism can be taken to mean a mistrust of subjectivity and a simple 
faith in rationality. In those pre-Vatican II days, it was as though objectivity 
and reason could save us from the illusions that attend upon feelings, that 

hover around the ignis fatuus of the imagi- 
nation. Reason would defend us against 

The change with the most the * ubterfu S es of self-deception. I do not 

T . recall now that it was ever observed some- 
revolutionary conse- ,. ,. r , „ . ■ 

J . ,. thine you directors or the hxercises ob- 

quences was the discovery Z ' u „■ u u n 

* / serve so often that you perhaps hardly 

that one could respectably reflect on k) that rationality is the stoutest 
use the word "experience." & y in the cause of evading painful deci- 
sions and is a chief tool of the self-serving 
spirit. Rationality needs, even more than 
do the heart and the imagination, to be 
purified. Yes, I know, I taught you to reverence the intelligence. I hope you 
will never lose hold of that. But I wrote in one of my letters, "For it may 
often be that those things which do not seem to fit in at all with human 
prudence are perfectly compatible with the divine prudence. For the divine 
prudence cannot be bounded by the laws of our reasonings." 30 

Your experience has shown you, surely, that if abstractions are to 
be your servants and not your masters, you need constantly to bring them 
into friendly encounter with experience. You have to check them out 
continually and adjust them in the light of the real. Otherwise, they take on 
too easily a life of their own and too much determine how you see reality. 

Attention to experience, too, and reflection on it, especially as you 
give the Exercises, began to dissolve the inherited burden of Pelagianism. 
(Very well, go ahead and put that word in quotation marks. Take it as a 



See Hugo Rahner, S.J., Ignatius the Theologian (London, 1968), 225: "no se ata 
a las leyes de nuestras razones." Rahner here cites a letter of Ignatius to the Duke of Alba, 
in Sancti Ignatii de Loyola epistoke et instructiones, vol. 11, vol. 40 of MHSI (Rome, 1968), 8. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 17 



useful enough label to cover as well a prevailing wind of neo-Augustinian 
pessimism.) Even a small presence to the power and generosity of God's 
action in a person begins to dissipate the clouds of pessimism about human 
nature that long had been looming over spirituality in the religious climate 
of those last four hundred years. The kind of fear and mistrust masquerading 
as a wise prudence is seen to beget pusillanimity, a small-minded placing of 
human limitations on the power of God, a timid hedging-around of a 
person's expectations of how God desires to act and how generous is his 
bounty. I had hoped that when you had all finished making the Exercises, 
you would have found a permanent joy in "pondering with deep affection 
. . . how the Lord desires to give himself to me" (SpEx 234). 

Before the mid-1960s the dominant orthodoxy did not encourage 
you to use the word "contemplation." Once when Fr. James Walsh, the only 
begetter of The Way, was working toward his doctorate in Rome in the early 
1950s, at the end of a seminar on late-medieval writers, he asked the presid- 
ing professor, "Isn't it clear that their use of the term contemplation is what 
Ignatius meant by . . . ?" The professor replied, not quite looking over his 
shoulder, "Yes, of course. But you can't say so." 

Now at any rate you can speak more freely. Some of you, indeed, 
may say, too freely, given the rapid deterioration of the currency of good 
words in the field of spirituality these days. We may feel that words like 
"mystical" are too cheaply used. 31 Be that as it may, it can happen that while 
making the Exercises, a person becomes aware that something has inter- 
vened, aware of having received something given. In the vocabulary I was 
able to use in the 1500s, that would coincide with what I meant by consola- 
tion (SpEx 316). 32 

All that is no more than to say that when you begin to attend to 
what actually happens in persons under the working of grace, you discover 
the importance of not interfering (SpEx 15). I said, didn't I, that I wanted 
you as far as possible to be free in all your activities, at ease in yourselves, 



31 De Guibert, almost, one might think, echoing Melchor Cano's words, wrote, 
"No doubt, just like so many spiritual writers of other schools, more than one Jesuit also 
has written about facile paths to union and the shortened roads to the love of God" (de 
Guibert, Spiritual Doctrine, 572). 

32 Asked what he meant by consolation, St. Ignatius said of himself that it was 
"something that he sensed in himself that was not his own, nor could be his own, but was 
purely from God" (reported by Pedro de Ribadeneira, "De actis P. N. Ignatn," in Fontes 
narrativi de s. Ignatio de Loyola (FN), ed. Candidus de Dalmases, vol. 2 of Monumenta 
Ignatiana, vol. 73 of the MHSI (Rome, 1951), 338. 



18 •!• Joseph Veale, SJ. 

and obedient to the light given particularly to each one of you. 33 It was in a 
letter to Francis Borgia that I wrote, 

God sees what is best for each one. And knowing all things he shows each 
one the road to take and helps him with grace to follow it. But a man may 
need time before he discovers, perhaps by trial and error, his own special 
way to God, the surest and the happiest for him in this life. 34 

Notice that I wrote, "before he discovers perhaps by trial and 
error." That was my idiom. I had a liking for the empirical, a trust in the 
interplay of the intelligence with experience. That was something central to 
my way of proceeding and my temperament. I was less at home with 
generalizations and abstractions. My mind preferred synthesis to analysis, 
preferred reconciling to defining and excluding. I was wary of categories and 
absolutes. I believed in obedience to the real: to what is there, is given, is 
objective. I never underestimated the usefulness of law or the need for the 
clarity of the schools. But I wanted the contribution of positive theology, of 
the Fathers, and of monastic theology. And I had to confess to being 
irritated by the kind of conversationalists I dubbed decretistae, those who laid 
down the law. 35 

History is disturbing, isn't it? As soon as it is allowed on stage (with 
experience, its partner), the ground begins to move. And when the Holy 
Spirit is acknowledged to be 

the primary agent at work in ~— — —- - ~— 
the world, fear enters. It will But how do you judge what is 
be well known to you from healthy tradition and what has he- 
your experience in giving the CQme unhealthy? 
Exercises that fear is what 

most often affords an opening ^"■^^ 

to the bad spirit. It is then 

that you get reality distorted. Your psychologists know all about denial. 
People will do anything rather than see the reality that is staring them in 
the face. 

Those of you who are older were formed in a world that was set in 
stone. The Church asked you in Perfects caritatis to return to the sources. 
All very fine. You were to grasp the spirit of the founder, to identify it, and 



33 FN 1:357. 

34 Letter 466, in 5. Ignatii de Loyola epistolce et instructions y vol. 2, vol. 26 of 
MHSI (Rome, 1964), 236. For an English translation of this letter, see William J. Young, 
S.J., trans., Letters of St. Ignatius of Loyola (Chicago, 1959), 181. 

Da Camara, Memoriale, no. 204. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 19 



preserve it with a view to a new engagement of the same spirit with a 
different world and one with wholly new needs. 

The words the fathers of the council used were "sanae traditiones." 36 
You were to engage with the world employing the Company's sound 
traditions. Sound: or sane or healthy or wholesome or reliable. In an earlier 
draft of that sentence, the text had said you should cleave to the venerabiles 
traditiones. But the fathers of the council rejected that wording. It was an 
acknowledgment that not all the venerable traditions were healthy. 

It may be that the Church has rarely said anything so upsetting. In 
the event, it upset the assumptions of a dominant orthodoxy then in posses- 
sion. It was a recognition that institutions within the Church (and by 
implication the Church itself) can become encrusted with layers of misinter- 
pretation. Many of you at that time had already become aware that every 
institution can come to carry an increasingly heavy baggage of custom, 
custom that was once healthy, necessary, and life giving, but is later found 
to be a dead hand, a chill on the spirit, a constriction upon God's work. 

But how do you judge what is healthy tradition and what has 
become unhealthy? 

To decide which traditions are a natural development of the original 
charism and what are eventually found to be foreign to it would seem to 
suppose that you are already in possession of a clear grasp of the original 
charism. 

But are you? 

I expect you would say that before the 1960s you knew. You had 
the words of the Formula of the Institute. There was no talk then, of course, 
of "charism." That good word had not yet been recovered, at least in general 
talk, from St. Paul. You went about your work without for the most part 
asking disturbing questions. The Society was there. The system was in place. 
You trusted the system. The spirituality of the order and the institutional 
structures that shaped the regime of living and formed your internal experi- 
ence as Jesuits were in place from, roughly, 1600 to 1965. That was largely 
the work of Fr. General Aquaviva (+1615). The Aquavivan settlement 
crumbled in the 1960s. "Overnight" is only a shade too strong to describe 
the swiftness of the dismantling. 

You assumed that those three hundred years and more of the 
Society were the work of Providence. You would be right if you thought 
that, in my view, all the development that has occurred was guided or 



36 PerfecUe caritatis, no. 2. See Commentary on the Documents of Vatican II, ed. 
Herbert Vorgrimler, vol. 2 (New York and London, 1968), 322. 



20 + Joseph Veale, S.J. 

allowed by "the supreme Wisdom and Goodness" (Cons., 134). The supreme 
Wisdom has reasons for allowing the imperfect on the road to later growth. 
You expect mistakes. That was a principle, as you know, behind my method 
of forming young Jesuits. You wait for growth. You learn the ways that 
help it. You help those not long on the road to learn how to learn from 
mistakes. 

What do you think? Before the 1960s it was not common among 
you to imagine that things might have been otherwise. You were not given 
to pondering how later decisions are at best approximations to a founder's 
spirit, sometimes the best you can manage, if you are cornered, in the 
circumstances. What was in fact done may be more in tune or may be less in 
tune with a founder's intentions. 

What was certainly an influence was the prevailing Church culture 
and what it simply took for granted. When you reflect on the opposing 
views of the ascetics and the mystics in the Company's first hundred years, 
it becomes obvious that both sides were in want of a language. They did not 
have the words with which to articulate their convictions. 37 

In fact, the Exercises, had they known them better, would have 
provided a language in which to begin to understand the questions at issue: 
the vocabulary of consolation and desolation, of the movements of the 
spirits, of activity and passivity, of the process of discretio in the making of a 
choice under the guidance of the Spirit, of the variety of ways in which God 
relates with persons, of the manifold reality of his gifts. Neither side refers 
to Nadal's "contemplation even in action." Neither uses my preferred way of 
saying much the same thing: "seeking and finding God in everything." 38 
Neither draws on the spirituality that inhabits every line of the Constitu- 
tions, especially what I tried to make clear in the proemium and in my 
returning often to discreta caritas. 39 



37 Fr. General Claudio Aquaviva settled the issue in principle by referring to 
Jeronimo Nadal's "ducentem Spiritum sequebatur, non prseibat." Experienced Jesuits were 
to be led by the Holy Spirit. Aquaviva made it clear that contemplative ways of prayer 
were not foreign to our way of proceeding. See, for example, the letter of May 8, 1590, 
"Quis sit orationis et paenitentise usus in Societate, juxta nostrum institutum," in Epistolrt 
prcepositorum generalium, vol. 1 (Brussels, 1909), 248. See also Joseph de Guibert, "Le 
Generalat d'Aquaviva," Archivum historicum Societatis Iesu 10 (1941): 68f. 

38 Sources for this Ignatian aphorism included, among others, Jeronimo Nadal, 
S.J., "In examen annotationes," in Epistolae p. Hieronymi Nadal, vol. 4 (Madrid, 1905), 651; 
Young, Letters of St. Ignatius, 235 f., 240; and FN 2:419, no. 22. 

39 "More than any exterior constitution, the interior law of love which the Holy 
Spirit writes and engraves upon hearts" (Cons., 134). 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" •!• 21 



But neither side used that language. 40 The charism was known in the 
living of it. They did not have a theology, a theological culture, a vocabu- 
lary, or a language that would have enabled them to grasp the new nature of 
what they were faithfully living. There had not been time to reflect in depth 
on that experience or to grasp clearly what constituted its newness. 

You must be familiar with this reflection on the difficulty of 
capturing a spirit in words. 

The official documents of religious orders, including the documents of 
the founders themselves, express even the ideal only imperfectly. In particu- 
lar, those documents find it easier to articulate how they are in continuity 
with the tradition than how they are innovating within it, for by the 
nature of the case the latter reality lacks as yet a precise vocabulary. 41 

The conceptual tools were not at hand to express the newness of a way of 
contemplative life in which the one end is "to aid souls." 42 

Trent, insofar as it had considered the nature of the priesthood, had 
been unable to look at or to encompass the long experience of priests whose 
consecrated life, for example, the Franciscan or Dominican orders, was given 



4 However, Balthasar Alvarez, in an account of his teaching on prayer written 
for the General, refers to SpEx 76: "Where I find what I desire, there I will be quiet, 
without being anxious to go on until I have been satisfied." That is a main point of St. 
Ignatius's delicate pedagogy of contemplation. Alvarez in the same place says, "To the 
ideas of my opponents I will oppose [St. Ignatius's] example" (see La Puente, Life of 
Balthasar Alvarez, chap. 41). 

41 37 John W. O'Malley, "Priesthood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Some 
Historical and Historiographical Considerations," Theological Studies, 49 (1988): 223-57. 
Also in Tradition and Transition (Wilmington, Del., 1989), 134. 

42 The one end is to be so united with God that he can use the body of the 
Company as a flexible instrument in his hands to complete his work on earth. 

"That is why Joseph de Guibert's division between union and service ultimately 
breaks down in Ignatian spirituality. It is not that 'the orientation of this mystic [is] 
towards service rather than union.' It is rather that God is at work; and that to be united 
with Him the way that He is, is to be with him in this labor. In this understanding of the 
providential God, the dichotomy between union and service is collapsed into a single 
comigo. One is with God in His work" (Michael J. Buckley, "Siempre crescendo in 
devotione . . . ," CIS, no. 60 - vol. 20, no. 1 [1989], 70f.). 

The language of two ends traps one into asking a question that ends in barren 
words. Francisco Suarez escaped this way: "Ita vero sumendus est hie finis ut ab alto, 
scilicet perfectionis proprise acquirendae, non separetur, sed sit quasi determinatio ejus; vel 
potius sese determinant, et ita ex eis confletur unus adsequatus et perfectissimus finis talis 
religionis" (Or rather one should say that they [two ends] determine each other mutually, 
and so from both is composed the one adequate and most perfect end of this religious 
order) (Tractatus de Religione Societatis Iesu (1626) [Brussels, 1857]). 



22 * Joseph Veale, SJ. 

to ministry. 43 Insofar as Trent reflected on religious life, it saw it in monastic 
terms and regarded it as the pursuit of personal perfection. The dominant 
theology in no way came to terms with the reality of religious priests whose 
whole life was dedicated to the apostolate. Indeed, for that matter, you will 
have noticed that in Perfected caritatis the Church has not yet articulated 
officially that part of its experience. 44 Nor have the official statements of the 
Church been able even yet to find words for that reality of Christian life in 
which activity and contemplation compenetrate and in which the apostolic 
task itself is unitive. 45 

So, there is need for words. Words, words, words. You have been 
good with words, haven't you? Great waves and inundations of them over 
those hundreds of years. Eloquent words, dry scholarly words, soporific and 
exciting words. 46 

When I began to see the Gospel value of schools and got after you 
to open them everywhere, you eagerly embraced that tradition of rhetoric 
that the Italian humanists passed on to you. 47 You grasped it and you ran 
with it. It fitted. But all that articulacy and scholarship, your ease with 
words and the great mountains of them you have left behind you, should 
have made you skeptical about words. Words are friable, they are slippery, 
they slide and wriggle, they are protean, they refuse to stay still, they shift 
and dissemble. You think you have pinned a reality with a definition, boxed 
it in, when already reality is mocking the illusory permanence. Your mas- 
tery of words has often seduced you into a rage to define. You bruise with 
definitions. You do not sufficiently acknowledge that there are some layers 
of experience that are happier left indefinite, more at home among the poets. 
When I listen in to your lengthy and learned discussions, I feel I'd like to 



43 O'Malley, "Priesthood, Ministry," 154. 

44 Ibid., 161. "Of the sections of Perfects caritatis, only two (nos. 8 and 20) are 
devoted to ministry." 

45 Yet in Lumen gentium bishops "will make their ministry the principal means 
of their own sanctification," and a priest should "not be undone by his apostolic cares, 
dangers and toils, but rather led by them to higher sanctity" (no. 41, emphasis added). 

46 Karl Rahner has St. Ignatius say, "If you fill up the barns of men's 
consciousness only with your very learned and up-to-date theology, which ultimately 
engenders nothing but a fearful torrent of words" ("Ignatius of Loyola Speaks to a Modern 
Jesuit," in Ignatius of Loyola, with a historical introduction by Paul Imhof, S.J. [London, 
1979]; the German original was published the previous year). This is the only occasion in 
which Rahner appeared on stage as a ventriloquist. That was in 1978. 

47 O'Malley, First Jesuits, 200 ft. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" *• 23 

shout: "Please. Be quiet. Just for a minute. Just fall silent before the mys- 

» 
tery. 

And you know, of course, when you are searching the sources for 
the original spirit, you have to be wary. "Documents do not speak to any of 
us, most certainly when they are from an age other than our own. With a 
professional finesse reminiscent of the worst legends of the Spanish Inquisi- 
tion, we must torture their meaning out of them." 48 

For most purposes words are all you have. You must do what you 
can with them. You have to approach them with reverence. That is the least 
you can do when your order is named for the incarnate Word. You have to 
use them with respect, even when you succeed in shrugging off a seriousness 
that may make you too ponderous. If you are to use words in the service of 
the Gospel and not in the service of some other kingdom, you have to love 
them. And you have to want, yourself, to be true. 

I had no great vanity about my own command of words. I did try 
to weigh them and use them carefully. There are some of you who say now 
that there was something of the poet in me. I certainly had nothing of the 
poet's art with words. I was not one to forge a new language. I had to do 
with what was at hand. If you encounter God at whatever lowly level, you 
can only communicate the ineffable in the categories of your time. 

The same limits constrained me when I sat day by day trying to 
find words to express the new charism in the Constitutions. I see now that I 
was trying to capture a vision. And the words were not up to it. "We must, 
in any case, reckon that even religious geniuses like Dominic, Francis, and 
Ignatius may not have been fully capable of expressing what they were doing 
or hoped to do." 49 Well, Dominic and Francis, anyway. 

So words are unreliable. And the evidence of history is fragmentary. 
It must be bred in your bones that human life is unfinished, ragged. From 
your first encounter in the Exercises with the Principle and Foundation, 
from the contemplation on the Incarnation, from your experience of living 
and speaking the Gospel, that must be second nature to you. The Jesus you 
desire to be identified with is hedged about with limitation. It follows that 
in your search for the original spirit, you have to live contentedly with some 
realities that attend the limitations of your creaturehood. 

The first is that authenticity cannot depend on the historical 
evidence. Such evidence as you have is fragmentary. Your view of it is 
colored by your time. It is a fundamentalist fallacy to suppose that more 



48 O'Malley, "de Guibert and Jesuit Authenticity," 108. 

49 O'Malley, Tradition and Transition, 168. 



24 4* Joseph Veale, SJ. 

knowledge of the sources or the discovery of new documents would ensure a 
more authentic grasp of the original spirit. All your education tends to make 
you look first to the text. If you have truly interiorized the culture of the 
academy, you will be impatient with people who speak from a different level 
of experience. Your instinct is to use the tools of reason. You search for the 
available evidence and you want to make it disclose its secrets. 

The other truth is that those early documents "are incapable of 
rising above the historical realities in which they are immersed. Only with 
the hindsight of generations or centuries does the sensus plenior, the full 
implications, emerge" (168). 

The sensus plenior. The fuller understanding. Fine. But how, by 
what means, does that fuller understanding come? 

I had that in mind when I wrote the tenth part of the Constitutions, 
"How the Whole Body Can Be Preserved and Developed in Its Well-Being." 

I was no historian. Certainly not in the sense you would have in 
mind. But I had a sense of history. All my thinking was immersed in 
process. Already in my lifetime the companions were encountering "so many 
different people inhabiting the great extent of the surface of the earth, some 
white, some black . . . coming into the world" (SpEx 103, 106)— from Brazil 
to Japan and India and Malacca and Africa and Europe north and south, and 
Europe east and west, even to Ireland. 

I did not see then, naturally, in any specific way, the imaginative 
daring of Fr. Alessandro Valignano and his encouragement of Fr. Matteo 

Ricci, their capacity to enter into the inte- 
rior worlds of people with so different a 

The Constitutions are not ™? of seeking God, their conviction 

r t . t about what you now term incuituration. 

tor speculative contempla- ~ T n ( i_ j 

. r , . ,. But I well knew the interior dispositions 

tion or academic discourse ^ men of that son woM need Free . 

but for contemplative de- dom from fear and a capacity for ris ks: the 

cision and action. grace f "being indifferent" mentioned in 

the Exercises, the freedom of the spirit, is 
what liberates the imagination and ingenu- 
ity to conceive what had never been con- 
ceived. And the fearlessness that embraces risk. Freedom. Freedom from 
shame and fear. That was it. 

I knew the mission of the Kingdom would require mobility and 
flexibility, an exterior mobility that would be simply the spontaneous 
expression of your interior mobility. I built all that into the Constitutions. 
Vastly different cultures throughout the world demanded an inbuilt principle 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 25 



of adaptation. Unyielding rules and definitions would not serve. The mission 
was to be accomplished always "according to the circumstances of persons, 
places, and times." 

The determining principle that was to govern the ongoing mission 
was to be no written document. The Institute, our "way of proceeding," was 
already there, being lived, before we came together to deliberate in 1539 and 
to try to find words for what we were already living. It was our experience 
that we prayed and reflected upon together, before it was written down. 
Between the experience and the text came the "election," discretio, a process. 

A reverse process is needed if the text as you have it is to be 
understood and interpreted. It is the same with the various other documents 
you have that survived from those early days. To interpret the text, to bring 
it to life again, to continue to found the order, to animate and deploy the 
body, in what I now see to be a post-Enlightenment, post-Darwin, post- 
Freud, post-Marx, postmodern, world, demands a sensitivity to "the interior 
law of love." The law of love in your hearts is the Holy Spirit. Between the 
text and the living of it comes the "election," a process I kept coming back 
to in the text itself, discreta caritas. 50 

It is in deeds more than in words that the authentic spirit and the 
sance traditiones come to be understood. In that way the fuller understand- 
ing, the sensus plenior, is disclosed. It is in the cost of decision, in the 
demands that it makes on your senses and spirit, in the pain of seeking the 
dispositions that make you open to finding the missions that truly build 
Christ's kingdom, that unaware you continue to refound and to be faithful 
and creative. Those early documents do not yield their fuller meaning to 
scholarship. The Constitutions are not for speculative contemplation or 
academic discourse but for contemplative decision and action. It is decisions 
that embody them, give flesh again to the word. You learn their meaning by 
living them. Their meaning comes alive in an experience together of proceed- 
ing "in conformity with the spirit" (Cons., 671), of the whole body in union 
deciding about the mission of the Kingdom. It is discreta caritas in action 
that is the authentic interpreter of the documents, that opens the Constitu- 
tions to you, that calls you to be authentic, that reincarnates the original 
charism. It is in that contemplative procedure that you are to find God in 
what you are brought to decide and to do, in fluctuating situations that you 
cannot foresee, in a world and a Church you cannot know beforehand. 

The principal means used by the divine Wisdom is "the interior law 
of love which the Holy Spirit writes and engraves upon hearts." I longed to 
make it clear that that interior law is effective "more than any written 



50 



Cons., 134, 414, 671, all from Part X. 



26 4* Joseph Veale, S J. 

constitutions." I wanted that law of love to govern your interpretation of 
those early documents and govern your reading of the world you are 
immersed in. The law of the Spirit is primary. The exterior law is useful and 
necessary. 

If you feel I have overdone it in my observations on the fluidity of 
words and the teasing mysteries of historical research, it may be because I 
feel you fall too easily into a notion that your meetings and your lengthy 
wordy encounters ought to solve things. And then, when they don't, when 
ten years later you find the eloquent documents still largely unimplemented 
and you find a demand for more and still more documents, and you wearily 
say that you have too many documents already, then you become frustrated 
and sad. You look in the wrong place. Your focus is misplaced. 

But, believe me, I would have you bear in mind that the written 
word is indispensable. The same is true of the historical evidence. I have 
always reverenced learning and the labors of the intellect. The knowledge 
that your scholars mine for you is invaluable, but at best it is imperfect. All 
those are the human means and I wanted you to respect them. The human 
means are to be used with diligence, used always in a clear awareness that 
they are secondary (Cons., 414, 814). 

The primary instrument of authentic interpretation is the living 
body of the Company composed of its members. 

I expect it is a commonplace among you that where there is ques- 
tion of authentic interpretation of any document (never mind this holy 
world of charisma and institutes), authenticity is a function of the authentic- 
ity of the interpreter. If the interpreter is true, the interpretation will have 
some chance of coming closer to the truth. Integrity in teaching and writing 
come only from moral integrity. 

But what I had in mind in the Constitutions goes deeper than moral 
integrity. It is not enough that the will and the conscience cleave to truth. 
The spirit, too, needs to be purified. The well-being of the whole body, the 
truth and integrity of your living, depends on the extent to which you are 
instrumenta conjuncta cum Deo (Cons., 813). 

It follows that you will be off course, chasing shades, getting it 
wrong, to the extent that the members are not united with the source. The 
spirit that is incarnated will be unauthentic. The body may show an ener- 
getic semblance of life. I so desired to make it plain that a true grasp of your 
charism and any effective good you may do need particular dispositions. 
That is what the Constitutions are, not primarily laws, but guidelines 
toward the formation of a particular kind of man and an outline of the 
dispositions that make for freedom. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" •!• 27 



The spirit needs to be clarified. It needs unceasingly to be purified. 
It cannot purify itself. I often repeated the need you have to seek a a thor- 
oughly right and pure intention" (Cons., 618, 288). If you have not experi- 
enced the bitterness of discovering that you have sidestepped from the road 
into a bog, you may never see words like those as anything more than 
harmless pieties. It is frivolous to talk of discernment (as you have been 
doing now for almost forty years) if you do not all the time bring home to 
yourselves the cost of the dispositions that allow freedom. That is what I 
meant when I said you would desire your "greater abnegation and continual 
mortification in all things possible" (Cons., 103). 

Freedom from self-serving motivation is given only in the setting of 
a continuing and affective contemplative relationship with him who is "the 
way that leads men to life" (Cons., 101). That makes no sense if it is not seen 
as an intrinsic requirement of love. 

Freedom was what I was concerned about throughout the Exercises. 
When I was writing our Constitutions, I was assuming that when you had 
made the Exercises, you had come up against the blocks and the bents of 
your freedom. You would taste its limits. That experience would have 
brought you to a companionable familiarity with your particular biases and 
prejudices, with your favored devices of evasion: that you would have begun 
a life-long process of living with your proper crippledness and would know 
the need to continue to learn the wise ways of handling it. The Principle 
and Foundation, if it has been experienced and not just assented to as a 
pleasing formula, gives you a glimpse of God and his absolute freedom, of 
your shackled freedom, of the sacredness of others' freedom, of the risk of 
God in giving it and the splendor of the gift. You would desire to continue 
to take the means to grow always into greater freedom. And you would 
know that freedom and desire and love are the same thing. 

When you first make the Exercises, you can only glimpse, even in 
the searching fire of the First 

Week, the convolutions of ^^^^^_^^^__^^^^_^^^^^^^^^_ 
your clinging to what pre 



vents you from being free. I The primary instrument of authentic 

was always aware, especially interpretation is the living body of 

in the Constitutions, of pro- the Company composed of its members. 
cess. I trusted the process of 
growth. If you could enter 
affectively into what I pre- 
sented there and could continue to be helped to learn from your mistakes, 



28 •!• Joseph Veale, S.J. 

you would be strong in helping others at a deep level to find God. That was 
to be your consolation. 

So, from the threshold of the Exercises you had begun to "keep 
God always before your eyes" {Formula of the Institute, 3)— provided you did 
not silently leave all that baggage by the roadside and get on with the 
important things like career and office and the excitement of achieving, 
becoming captivated by your cleverness or adroitness or competence in 
managing affairs or occupied with the alleyways of power. 

Your calling is such that you cannot safely travel that road if the 
prayer of the Two Standards is not the daily bread of your spirit. That is 
what I had in mind when I warned that you would have "to associate with 
so great a diversity of persons throughout such varied regions" (Cons., 414). 
You would have to learn to use a great variety of methods and means, 
heedless of risk, in the thickets of your own mind, acting with cunning, in 
situations that are complex and ambiguous, finding a way through mazes of 
danger and delusion, face to face with the sinuous darkness of human reality, 
face to face with your own darkness. There is no way you could wrestle 
with that (if you were not to become fascinated by it, not sucked into it) 
without making the triple colloquy of the Two Standards your constant 
clamor and a familiar and loved way of beholding your life in the world as it is. 

It is a continuing and lifelong learning. If some of you have come to 
feel that the Company needs "refounding" (but that expression did not get 
much of a run and was semantically analyzed until it lost all flesh and blood) 
or that you feel in some parts of the body like an unwieldy aircraft that has 
reached a comfortable altitude and is cruising on hold, it may be that many 
of you have lost touch with that prayer of the Exercises in which you see 
how your deeper and subtler attachments induce you to cling to what is 
familiar and safe: always looking on, quieting your imagination, being 
sensible, marking time, being sage before the risks of deciding, fearful of the 
kind of creativity that their freedom gave to so many of you in the first 
hundred years or so. But you are called to have the courage to fail, to go 
beyond frontiers of rationality into "those things which do not seem to fit 
in at all with human prudence," but "turning your hearts, as I said, to things 
of real beauty." 51 



51 "In the things of God, those who are over-prudent will hardly ever achieve 
anything really great. For those who are always thinking about the difficulties, and who 
are constantly brooding and vacillating because they fear the possible outcomes which 
they foresee, will never turn their hearts toward things of real beauty" (attributed to St. 
Ignatius by Ribadeneira). Hugo Rahner, in Ignatius the Theologian, 225, gives this 
reference: Vita Ignatii, V, 11 (ed. Cologne, 1602), 662. 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 29 






All that process is a personal learning of the stratagems of the 
enemy. It is not comfortable. Since I urged you to use all the human means 
(Cons., 814) with as much efficiency and effectiveness as you can, that prayer 
of the Two Standards is crucial. It is there that you learn the particular ways 
in which you can be led insensibly, when you are using the human means, 
to making the means your end (SpEx 169). Too often across the centuries 
some of you have made the means a substitute for God. It is easy to sup- 
plant him. I remember being made to address you more than twenty years 
ago, as "you repressed secret atheists of today, . . . your skepticism [about 
my knowing God] sharpened by an underlying atheism . . . not just in 
cleverly expressed theory but in the bitter practice of life too" 52 That was in 
the context of my saying that you can be skeptical about my confidence in 
the capacity of men and women to experience God. Some of you still find 
your task so absorbing— either the relish of it or as a deadener of deeper pain 
or stirrings of desire or intimations of your earlier dreams— that God is 
shelved. The experience of the Exercises teaches you the infinitely subtle 
variations, in each one of you, of the terms "riches" and "honors": how 
anything that is not God can become riches, how the more the enterprise is 
selfless, idealistic, and noble, inescapably what justice or truth demands, the 
more it needs scrutiny, needs the scrutiny of the Spirit. You know well that 
the more spiritual the objectives of your desire, the more easily, in clinging 
to them, can you be betrayed. We are betrayed by what is false within. 

Your recent exchanges about refounding and creative fidelity— am I 
right in surmising that they suggest uneasiness? A feeling that something is 
missing? Will anyone name it? That you have lost your way? Or that you 
have lost life? have sunk into a torpor? and in some parts of the body, into 
stagnation? That you have lost your edge? I am amazed when I see the 
well-being of the Company where you are at the edge, on the margin: where 
you are on the margins with the poor and living with them and living like 
them. Your work with refugees, not on center stage, far from the center of 
power, is one of the places you are alive. The body can be alive in one part 
and decomposing in another. 

Refounding, creative fidelity: are those bland formulas for something 
you are too polite to voice? Is it too offensive to say that what you need is 
conversion? Is that too crude? 

Yet, look at all the life-giving rediscovery of the Exercises these last 
thirty years and more, the vitality of discovery in Christus, in The Way, in 
Manresa, in Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, and look at the great invest- 



52 



Karl Rahner, "Ignatius Speaks," 14, 12. 



30 + Joseph Veale, S.J. 

ment of talent and manpower and real estate in the giving of the Exercises. 
You still fill your retreat houses. 

Are you secretly disappointed? Did you hope for something like the 
deep and radical conversion of many in the early days of the Exercises? I can 
hear some of you already getting ready to murmur that any such expecta- 
tions were unrealistic. What would it have been reasonable to expect? 
Reasonable, yes. Always reasonable. Do you sometimes sit down together 
and ask these questions? You may not come up with any answer. But asking 
the question may disclose something you have not been seeing. 

If all that ministry of the Exercises 
mm ^^^ m ^^^f mmmmmmmmtmmmmmm ^ mm seems to fall short of the exploded dyna- 
mite of the Exercises in the beginnings, it 
You cannot be more free may be because directors are not them- 

than to choose what is selves committed in their living to the rad- 

more according to the ical graces of the colloquy of the Two 

mind of Christ. Standards and the experience of the Third 

and Fourth Weeks. The Exercises are dy- 
^— namite, to be handled with care. We can 

insensibly wrap them in tissue paper and 
seal them inoffensively in a cardboard box. 

It is only women and men so surrendered and free, so aware of 
their own vulnerability to the illusions of the enemy, who can imagine 
creatively where God is leading his Church and who can suffer the conse- 
quences of the risks entailed: the risk of being traduced, the risk of refusing 
any longer to be inoffensive, of falling on one's face, of getting up again and 
giving it another try. 

In the absence of that real desire to be with Jesus in all his experi- 
ence, giving the Exercises can slip into a comforting therapy with a religious 
cosmetic. Is it sometimes like that? The Gospel is full of consolation and 
painful challenge. When giving the Exercises, do you muffle the radical 
demands of the Gospel? Do you sometimes let yourselves be peddlers of an 
unvarying diet of the love of God, of a kind that effectively conveys a 
harmless God? Are you reluctant to mention the fear of God, instead 
domesticating the purifying fire or the dread before the transcendent Holy? 

Is that what parts of the body need? A bracing exposure to the real? 

That colloquy of the Two Standards is an asking to be drawn closer 
into the experience of Jesus. That is when you, when we, take fright. It is 
the Jesus who is humble and poor. I said (did I?) in 1978, that from among 
the many ways of being a disciple of Jesus, I chose the discipleship of the 
poor and humble Jesus. "I wanted to follow the poor and humble Jesus and 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" * 31 



no other. ... I wanted something that my foolish love of Jesus Christ 
inspired in me as the law of my life." I was forced to say then that if "one 
becomes a Jesuit today, one becomes, perhaps, quite quickly and automati- 
cally, a good man and a good priest— but not a poor and humble one, not 
by a long way." 53 

Your desire leads you to want to be free. You want to be unbur- 
dened of the wayward and illusory desires that impede and mislead you. I 
had hoped that as you make the Exercises you would grasp more clearly that 
the freedom you glimpsed as a possibility in the Principle and Foundation is 
in fact the freedom to desire to be identified with Christ, a desire that is 
ready to enter into the consequences of doing his work in his way. It is 
crucial that it be his work and that you do it in the way he did. Then, if 
that desire is genuine, it cannot be without sharing his experience and 
embracing it "since he is the way that leads men to life" {Cons., 101). 

In the presence of that grace, given that disposition, God can, if he 
wishes to do so, make his will known. And the human instrument is less 
likely to be lured by the father of lies. You cannot be more free than to 
choose what is more according to the mind of Christ. 

That culminating point of the Exercises I placed in the Constitutions 
at the gateway to the Company. 54 I knew what I was doing. If someone was 
wholly innocent of some deeper sense of seeing the beauty of that, if he had 
no affinity with it, I did not want him to risk the dangers of going further. 
The danger is that he might be lost entirely. 

The words I chose, the verbs, point to a climate of the heart. "The 
candidate should be asked whether he finds himself in a state of desires like 
these." It is a state of desire that is emphasized here. 

They desire to clothe themselves with the same clothing and uniform of 
their Lord because of the love and reverence which he deserves, to such an 
extent that . . . they would want to suffer injuries, false accusations, and 
affronts, and to be held and esteemed as fools . . . because of their desire to 
resemble and imitate in some manner our Creator and Lord Jesus Christ. 
. . . For he gave us an example that in all things possible to us we might 
seek ... to imitate him, since he is the way which leads men to life (Cons., 101). 

For many that is a dragon in the gate. For some, it can later become 
a foolishness that is better relegated to oblivion. It offends reason. But in the 



53 Ibid., 21, 22. 

54 See the Three Kinds of Humility, SpEx, nos. 165-68. The "gateway" is found 
at the end of the interview with someone who wants to join the order, at the close of the 
fourth chapter of the General Examen, nos. 101-3. 



32 * Joseph Veale, SJ. 

absence of some affinity with those words, the Constitutions, and our way of 
living, remains a closed book, a dead letter. And so do those other early 
documents. Their authentic interpretation depends on the degree to which 
their interpreters are desiring to live them. The doing of it, the living of it, 
not the studying of it, opens their meaning. The final hermeneutic is the 
cross. 

Far from being abashed or dismayed by the lessons history teaches 
you about the fragility of evidence or the human capacity for getting things 
wrong, this consideration should help you to live contentedly with the fact 
that your present interpretations too are partial and myopic and that God 
would have it so. 

"There are no static answers to questions of historical authenticity." 

There was a deeper wisdom in the request of Vatican II that our 
approach to the sources should be a reditus continuus. The authentic source 
is a daily rediscovery and an unending search. 






Appendix 1 
A Perspective 

Germany, 1547: Bobadilla increased his trips, his interference, his out- 
bursts, and his criticisms. His activity was effective because he had a very 
clear perception of situations, a single-minded zeal and dauntless courage; 
he refused to despair and shared his hope with others. 

Rome 1552: The Constitutions began to be known in certain regions. A 
certain picking and choosing was at work among the companions. But the 
majority entered fully into their spirit. In other places Ignatius was 
obliged to intervene to recall some to obedience, to poverty, and to 
community life. He did so with lucidity and tenacity. 

1552: Overly lenient recruitment in certain regions concerned Ignatius: the 
need for men caused haste and a lack of rigor that were contrary to the 
bonum commune of the Society. 

Italy, 1552: When Ignatius recalled de Freux, Lainez protested and Ignatius 
reacted, which resulted in admirable letters from both of them. In the 
name of Ignatius, Polanco wrote to Lainez: "The chaff is mixed with good 
grain, even in the Society. The Lord knows those who belong to him and 
those alone constitute the Society." 

Italy, 1553: For the colleges it was a difficult year as a result of poverty that 
bordered on abject misery. Lainez, sick, overburdened with work and 
worry — and, it must be said, tired of the spiritual mediocrity of certain 
subjects whom Rome sent him (who soon would leave or be discharged) — 
was driven to the point of asking Ignatius to relieve him of his duties as 
provincial. 

Northern Europe, 1553: As the distances that separated the companions 
grew larger, the human aspect of their behavior showed through in their 
letters. Ignatius himself was caught in the middle and he reacted character- 
istically. He maintained what Polanco called "the simplicity which the 
First Fathers used among themselves": their simplicity, that is to say, their 
single-minded passion for God and for souls, their zeal. Nothing, it 
seemed, could disconcert him, neither success nor failure, neither friend- 
ship nor opposition nor calumny. He remained incapable of being flus- 
tered. This steadfast man in his little house near the church of Our Lady 
of La Strada seized events on the wing as signs of God, urged his compan- 
ions forward, sustained them in battles, even in hopeless ones. 

Cologne, 1552: Kessel, called to profession, went to his own country on 
family business. When he returned, he found his fold in revolt. He 
dismissed nine of his fourteen companions. 



33 



34 * Joseph Veale, S J. 

Italy, 1554: Rodriguez, forbidden to reenter Portugal and deprived of the 
authorization he had obtained from the Grand Penitentiary to live in a 
hermitage exempt from all obedience to Ignatius and the Society, began a 
painfully errant and erratic life. 

India, 1554: Conditions were hard. The companions were overworked. The 
new viceroy reduced the allocation of money to the missionaries, an 
action that put certain charitable works and houses in difficulty. Fr. 
Balthasar Diaz was a man of great faith and he boosted the morale of his 
companions: it is in weakness, he reminded them, that God shows his 
strength. 55 



55 Taken directly from Andre Ravier, Ignace de Loyola fonde la Compagnie de 
Jesus. This book is available in an English translation: Ignatius of Loyola and the Founding 
of the Society of Jesus (San Francisco, 1987). 



Appendix 2 

L^a Spiritualite de la Compagnie de Jesus: Esquisse Historique by Joseph de 
Guibert is a good example of the way a dominant orthodoxy blunts truth. 

The esquisse historique itself has a history. The work was commis- 
sioned by Fr. General Ledochowski for the fourth centenary in 1940 of the 
founding of the order. The author died unexpectedly in 1942. Fr. Ledochow- 
ski was not pleased with the manuscript. Under his successor, Fr. John 
Baptist Janssens, the work was published eleven years later. An English 
translation was published in 1964: The Jesuits: Their Spiritual Doctrine and 
Practice (Chicago, 1964; St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1963). Hence- 
forth this work will be referred to as History. 

The book reads like a work composed by two different men. The 
same contention between the "ascetics" and the "mystics" that was in the 
Society from the 1570s is at work in the present author. The two "authors" 
are not reconciled or integrated; they exist side by side, often in the same 
paragraph. 

The portrait de Guibert draws of St. Ignatius and of his spirit was 
bold enough for its time. After all, de Guibert had been the first, in 1938, to 
publish a monograph on the fragment of St. Ignatius's diary of 1544-45. 
There he had not only shown Ignatius to be a mystic "led by God in ways 
of infused contemplation to the same degree, though not in the same 
manner, as a St. Francis of Assisi or a St. John of the Cross," but he had 
given us a language in which to begin to understand the significant difference 
between the nature of Ignatius's mystical graces and those of St. John of the 
Cross or of St. Francis. It was no longer possible to assume that the contem- 
plative journey is all of one kind. 

It has been pointed out that de Guibert gives us a domesticated 
saint, finicky about "observance," meticulous about rules and common life. 
There is no sense of the magnanimity of vision, of the daring and enterprise, 
of the urgency of mission. There is a curious hiatus between the saint's 
interior life and the work he did, the first naturally looming larger. Ques- 
tions that de Guibert could well have asked about the intrinsic relationship 
of the saint's mysticism and mission remain simply unasked. 

Double authorship 

The third part of the History, written when the author was presum- 
ably a sick man and left unrevised upon his death in 1942, consists of an 
extended essay on the specific characteristics of Jesuit spirituality. It is here 
that the double authorship stands out and distorts the reality. There is, for 
example, a good section on the ways in which Jesuit authors have treated 

35 



36 •$• Joseph Veale, S J. 

questions of contemplative prayer and infused graces. De Guibert knew well 
the strong current of personal mystical experience and teaching on contem- 
plation found among the Spanish Jesuits from the 1570s on: Antonio 
Cordeses (+1601), Balthasar Alvarez (+1580), Diego Alvarez de Paz (+1620), 
Luis de La Puente (+1624). De Guibert had been one of the founders of 
Revue d'Ascetique et de Mystique in 1920, and of the Dictionnaire de Spirituali- 
te y and had been among the French scholars who were quietly producing 
monographs on these matters for half a century before Vatican Council II. 
Nevertheless, while traversing this terrain in the History the writer strikes a 
marked note of caution, of not wanting to raise his voice too loud. 

The second author, the "ascetic" de Guibert, speaks in a different 
tenor. He sets out to defend Jesuit spirituality against the charges of being a 
moralism, overly rationalist, voluntarist, Pelagian. The terms in which he 
conducts the defense confirm the case made by the prosecution. 

The Language of Rationality 

Since the History was published in 1953, we have learned a different 
language with which to explore our experience and to understand the 
Spiritual Exercises. We speak a different idiom. Here it is possible only to 
give a sketchy idea of the ways in which we should now find de Guibert's 
vocabulary dismaying. 

He sees the combination of enthusiasm with reason a chief charac- 
teristic note of Jesuit spirituality (595). From meditation on the Principle 
and Foundation, "Jesuits would henceforth ceaselessly recall that strong- 
willed indifference in the face of everything which is not the end" (534). In 
his exposition here of what Jesuit spirituality owes to the Exercises, he gives 
one sentence to the Election; "To the principles and counsels regarding the 
Election is related the very clear relish for well-considered action which is 
the fruit of mature thought" (536, emphasis added). 



From Center to Margin 

Now we should see the whole process of election, the apprentice- 
ship to discernment in making the Exercises (SpEx 125-89), as not only 
giving its peculiar nature to the Exercises, but also stamping its contempla- 
tive missionary character upon Jesuit spirituality. It is linked intrinsically 
with the Contemplation to Obtain Love, an exercise that in its bald lan- 
guage expressed something of the culminating mystical grace by the Cardo- 
ner in 1523. But in the History the finding of God in all things, familiarity 



"Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" 4- 37 



with God in the daily experience of living, are given as "among the . . . 
traits of Jesuit spirituality." 

Among the most constant traits in Jesuit spirituality— traits that also were 
numbered among those that St. Ignatius most earnestly desired to find in 
his sons — are several which have sprung from the suggestions in the 
Contemplation for Obtaining Love, the finding of God in everything, 
familiarity with the Master." (536, emphasis added) 

And then the finding of God in all things is dropped. The rhetoric sees as 
marginal and accidental what we now see to be central and constitutive. 

The Struggle Is Direct 

In the chapter "Reformation of Life and Ascetical Effort," the two 
authors are at work side by side. The "mystic" one, the man who had drawn 
out the deep things of St Ignatius's diary, writes, "Prayer is a means by 
which the soul can be penetrated with the supernatural spirit, united with its 
Creator and Lord, and placed completely under the influence of his grace" 
(571). The other author, the "ascetic," who labors to make a case and at 
much greater length, writes: 

What appears first ... is the pitiless struggle against love of self, attachment 
to comfort and one's own judgment and will. Ignatius carries on this 
struggle without truce, by giving trials and reprimands not only to begin- 
ners but also to his most faithful companions. (565) 

The Society has in truth never deviated from the line thus drawn. The 
acquisition of solid virtues and the struggle against self have been the 
themes that the generals have ceaselessly reverted to in their letters . . . this 
courageous and incessant struggle against themselves. . . . Another character- 
istic to be noticed in these programs to overcome defects and acquire 
virtues is that there is question above all of direct struggle and a direct 
effort." (569, emphasis added) 

De Guibert argues at length that it is an essential Jesuit characteris- 
tic stemming from the Exercises to refuse to rest content with the maxim 
"Ama et fac quod vis." They have preferred to insist on the necessary 
practice of particular virtues and urged others to a direct effort to acquire 
them. The other de Guibert (the real one, I think) writes, as we should tend 
to say now, 

If we are dominated by the love of Christ, we shall spontaneously take on 
his thoughts and tastes, we shall judge and act according to the example he 
has given. St. Francis de Sales's affectionate comparison is well known. On 
entering into the soul, charity, like the "queen bee" brings her whole people 
with her, that is, the whole troop of other virtues whose queen she is. 



38 •$• Joseph Veale, S.J. 

But then in the next paragraph the author wrestles with himself and returns 
to the claim that "nowhere in his spiritual direction and counsels is [St. 
Ignatius] satisfied with the indirect struggle against faults" (570). It is a 
prescription for self-absorption. That alone is enough to explain why many 
religious may have taken refuge in a healthier way of living, in activism. 

No Easy Way 

Two rhetorics are at work. There are two languages, each issuing 
from a different kind of experience and from different presuppositions. It is 
as though the "ascetic" is afraid to concede that God might have his own 
gentler ways of drawing people into union with him. De Guibert concedes 
that there have indeed been Jesuits who have advocated a less grim way of 
Christian living: "No doubt, just like so many spiritual writers of other 
schools, more than one Jesuit also has written about facile paths of union 
and the shortened roads to the love of God" (572). It would be dreadful to 
leave the reader with the impression that the way to God might be enjoyable. 

At one point the "ascetic," who is concerned at all costs to defend 
the grim version of Jesuit spirituality, sets out to refute the imputation of 
Pelagianism by the astounding argument that the spirituality could not have 
been semi-Pelagian because Jesuit theologians taught a sound theology of 
grace, as though the one had necessarily anything to do with the other (570). 
Fr. Paul Dudon in commenting on the instructive affair of Fr. Balthasar 
Alvarez, whose practice of direction was delated to the General in Rome by 
the watchdogs of authenticity and who was forbidden to pray contempla- 
tively or to recommend affective prayer to others, observes that in these 
matters it is easy to be wrong when the only ground for one's judgment is 
une science livresque. 56 



56 P. Dudon, "Les Lemons d'oraison du P. Balthasar Alvarez (1573-1578)," RAM, 
2 (1921): 56. 



□ 



Past Issues: Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 

(For prices, see inside back cover.) 

1/1 Sheets, Profile of the Contemporary Jesuit (Sept. 1969) 

1/2 Ganss, Authentic Spiritual Exercises: History and Terminology (Nov. 1969) 

2/1 Burke, Institution and Person (Feb. 1970) 

2/2 Futrell, Ignatian Discernment (Apr. 1970) 

2/3 Lonergan, Response of the Jesuit as Priest and Apostle (Sept. 1970) 

3/1 Wright, Grace of Our Founder and the Grace of Our Vocation (Feb. 1971) 

3/2 O'Flaherty, Some Reflections on Jesuit Commitment (Apr. 1971) 

3/4 Toner, A Method for Communal Discernment of God's Will (Sept. 1971) 

3/5 Sheets, Toward a Theology of the Religious Life (Nov. 1971) 

4/2 Two Discussions: I. Spiritual Direction, II. Leadership and Authority (Mar. 1972) 

4/3 Orsy, Some Questions about the Purpose and Scope of the General Congregation (June 1972) 

4/4 Ganss, Wright, O'Malley, O'Donovan, Dulles, On Continuity and Change: A Symposium 
(Oct. 1972) 

5/1-2 O'Flaherty, Renewal: Call and Response (Jan.-Mar. 1973) 

5/3 Arrupe, McNaspy, The Place of Art in Jesuit Life (Apr. 1973) 

5/4 Haughey, The Pentecostal Thing and Jesuits (June 1973) 

5/5 Orsy, Toward a Theological Evaluation of Communal Discernment (Oct. 1973) 

6/3 Knight, Joy and Judgment in Religious Obedience (Apr. 1974) 

7/1 Wright, Ganss, Orsy, On Thinking with the Church Today (Jan. 1975) 

7/2 Ganss, Christian Life Communities from the Sodalities (Mar. 1975) 

7/3 Connolly, Contemporary Spiritual Direction: Scope and Principles (June 1975) 

7/5 Buckley, The Confirmation of a Promise; Padberg, Continuity and Change in General 

Congregation XXXII (Nov. 1975) 

8/1 O'Neill, Acatamiento: Ignatian Reverence (Jan. 1976) 

8/2-3 De la Costa, Sheridan, and others, On Becoming Poor: A Symposium on Evangelical Poverty 
(Mar.-May 1976) 

8/4 Faricy, Jesuit Community: Community of Prayer (Oct. 1976) 

9/1-2 Becker, Changes in U.S. Jesuit Membership, 1958-75; Others, Reactions and Explanations 
(Jan.-Mar. 1977) 

9/4 Connolly, Land, Jesuit Spiritualities and the Struggle for Social Justice (Sept. 1977). 

9/5 Gill, A Jesuit's Account of Conscience (Nov. 1977) 

10/1 Kammer, "Burn-Out"— Dilemma for the Jesuit Social Activist (Jan. 1978) 

10/4 Harvanek, Status of Obedience in the Society of Jesus; Others, Reactions to Connolly- Land 

(Sept. 1978) 

11/1 Clancy, Feeling Bad about Feeling Good (Jan. 1979) 

11/2 Maruca, Our Personal Witness as Power to Evangelize Culture (Mar. 1979) 

11/3 Klein, American Jesuits and the Liturgy (May 1979) 

11/5 Conwell, The Kamikaze Factor: Choosing Jesuit Ministries (Nov. 1979) 

12/2 Henriot, Appleyard, Klein, Living Together in Mission: A Symposium on Small Apostolic 

Communities (Mar. 1980) 

12/3 Conwell, Living and Dying in the Society of Jesus (May 1980) 

12/4-5 Schineller, Newer Approaches to Chnstology and Their Use in the Spiritual Exercises (Sept. -Nov. 
1980) 

13/1 Peter, Alcoholism in Jesuit Life (Jan. 1981) 

13/3 Ganss, Towards Understanding the Jesuit Brothers' Vocation (May 1981) 

13/4 Reites, St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Jews (Sept. 1981) 

14/1 O'Malley, The Jesuits, St. Ignatius, and the Counter Reformation (Jan. 1982) 



14/2 Dulles, St. Ignatius and Jesuit Theological Tradition (Mar. 1982) 

14/4 Gray, An Experience in Ignatian Government (Sept. 1982) 

14/5 Ivern, The Future of Faith and Justice: Review of Decree Four (Nov. 1982) 

15/1 O'Malley, The Fourth Vow in Its Ignatian Context (Jan. 1983) 

15/2 Sullivan and Faricy, On Making the Spiritual Exercises for Renewal of Jesuit Charisms (Mar. 

1983) 

15/3-4 Padberg, The Society True to Itself: A Brief History of the 32nd General Congregation of the 

Society of Jesus (May-Sept. 1983) 

15/5-16/1 Tetlow, Jesuits' Mission in Higher Education (Nov. 1983-Jan. 1984) 

16/2 O'Malley, To Travel to Any Part of the World: Jeronimo Nodal and the Jesuit Vocation (Mar. 

1984) 

16/3 O'Hanlon, Integration of Christian Practices: A Western Christian Looks East (May 1984) 

16/4 Carlson, "A Faith Lived Out of Doors": Ongoing Formation (Sept. 1984) 

16/5 Kinerk, Eliciting Great Desires: Their Place in the Spirituality of the Society of Jesus (Nov. 1984) 

17/1 Spohn, St. Paul on Apostolic Celibacy and the Body of Christ (Jan. 1985) 

17/2 Daley, "In Ten Thousand Places": Christian Universality and the Jesuit Mission (Mar. 1985) 

17/3 Tetlow, Dialogue on the Sexual Maturing of Celibates (May 1985) 

17/4 Spohn, Coleman, Clarke, Henriot, Jesuits and Peacemaking (Sept. 1985) 

17/5 Kinerk, When Jesuits Pray: A Perspective on the Prayer of Apostolic Persons (Nov. 1985) 

18/1 Gelpi, The Converting Jesuit (Jan. 1986). 

18/2 Beirne, Compass and Catalyst- The Ministry of Administration. (Mar. 1986) 

18/3 McCormick, Bishops as Teachers and Jesuits as Listeners (May 1986) 

18/5 Tetlow, The Transformation of Jesuit Poverty (Nov. 1986). 

19/1 Staudenmaier, United States Technology and Adult Commitment (Jan. 1987) 

19/2 Appleyard, Languages We Use- Talking about Religious Experience (Mar. 1987) 

19/5 Endean, Who Do You Say Ignatius Is? Jesuit Fundamentalism and Beyond (Nov. 1987) 

20/1 Brackley, Downward Mobility: Social Implications of St. Ignatius's Two Standards (Jan. 1988) 

20/2 Padberg, How We Live Where We Live (Mar. 1988) 

20/3 Hayes, Padberg, Staudenmaier, Symbols, Devotions, and Jesuits (May 1988) 

20/4 McGovern, Jesuit Education and Jesuit Spirituality (Sept. 1988) 

20/5 Barry, Jesuit Formation Today: An Invitation to Dialogue and Involvement (Nov. 1988) 

21/1 Wilson, Where Do We Belong? United States Jesuits and Their Membership (Jan. 1989 ) 

21/2 Demoustier, Calvez, et al., The Disturbing Subject: The Option for the Poor (Mar. 1989) 

21/3 Soukup, Jesuit Response to the Communication Revolution (May 1989) 

22/1 Carroll, The Spiritual Exercises in Everyday Life (Jan. 1990) 

22/2 Bracken, Jesuit Spirituality from a Process Prospective (March 1990) 

22/3 Shepherd, Fire for a Weekend: An Experience of the Exercises (May 1990) 

22/4 O'Sullivan, Trust Your Feelings, but Use Your Head (Sept. 1990) 

22/5 Coleman, A Company of Critics: Jesuits and the Intellectual Life (Nov. 1990) 

23/1 Houdek, The Road Too Often Traveled (Jan. 1991) 

23/2 DiGiacomo, Ministering to the Young (March 1991) 

23/3 Begheyn and Bogart, A Bibliography on St. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises (May 1991) 

23/4 Shelton, Reflections on the Mental Health of Jesuits (Sept. 1991) 

23/5 Toolan, "Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire" (Nov. 1991) 

24/1 Houdek, Jesuit Prayer and Jesuit Ministry: Context and Possibilities (Jan. 1992) 

24/2 Smolich, Testing the Water: Jesuits Accompanying the Poor (March 1992) 

24/3 Hassel, Jesus Christ Changing Yesterday, Today, and Forever (May 1992) 

24/4 Shelton, Toward Healthy Jesuit Community Living (Sept. 1992) 

24/5 Cook, Jesus' Parables and the Faith That Does Justice (Nov. 1992) 

25/2 Donahue, What Does the Lord Require? (March 1993)— ONCE AGAIN AVAILABLE 

25/3 Padberg, Ignatius, the Popes, and Realistic Reverence (May 1993) 



25/4 Stahel, Toward General Congregation 34 (Sept. 1993) 

25/5 Baldovin, Christian Liturgy: An Annotated Bibliography (Nov. 1993) 

26/1 Tetlow, The Most Postmodern Prayer (Jan. 1994) 

26/2 Murphy, The Marty Ways of Justice (March 1994) 

26/3 Staudenmaier, To Fall in Love with the World (May 1994) 

26/4 Foley, Stepping into the River (Sept. 1994) 

26/5 Landy, Myths That Shape Us (Nov. 1994) 

27/1 Daley, "To Be More like Christ" (Jan. 1995) 

27/2 Schmidt, Portraits and Landscapes (March 1995) 

27/3 Stockhausen, I'd Love to, but I Don't Have the Time (May 1995) 

27/4 Anderson, Jesuits in Jail, Ignatius to the Present (Sept. 1995) 

27/5 Shelton, Friendship in Jesuit Life (Nov. 1995) 

28/1 Begheyn, Bibliography on the History of the Jesuits (Jan. 1996) 

28/2 Veale, Saint Ignatius Speaks about "Ignatian Prayer" (March 1996) 

28/3 Clooney, In Ten Thousand Places, in Every Blade of Grass (May 1996) 

28/4 Starkloff, "As Different As Night and Day" (Sept. 1996) 

28/5 Beckett, Listening to Our History (Nov. 1996) 

29/1 Hamm, Preaching Biblical Justice (Jan. 1997) 

29/2 Padberg, The Three Forgotten Founders (March 1997) 

29/3 Byrne, Jesuits and Parish Ministry (May 1997) 

29/4 Keenan, Are Informationes Ethical? (Sept. 1997) 

29/5 Ferlita, The Road to Bethlehem-Is It Level or Winding? (Nov. 1997) 

30/1 Shore, The Vita Christi ofLudolph of Saxony and Its Influence on the Spiritual Exercises of 

Ignatius of Loyola (Jan. 1998) 

30/2 Starkloff, "I'm No Theologian, but ... (or So . . . J?" (March 1998) 

30/3 Torrens, The Word That Clamors (May 1998) 

30/4 Petrik, "Being Sent" (Sept. 1998) 

30/5 Jackson, "One and the Same Vocation" (Nov. 1998) 

31/1 Clifford, Scripture and the Exercises (Jan. 1999) 

31/2 Toohig, Physics Research, a Search for God (March 1999) 

31/3 Fagin, Fidelity in the Church— Then and Nam (May 1999) 

31/4 Schineller, Pilgrim Journey of Ignatius (Sept. 1999) 

31/5 Fullam, Juana, S.J: Status of Women in the Society (Nov. 1999) 

32/1 Langan, The Good of Obedience in a Culture of Autonomy (Jan. 2000) 

32/2 Blake, Listen with Your Eyes (March 2000) 

32/3 Shelton, When a Jesuit Counsels Others (May 2000) 

32/4 Barry, Past, Present, and Future (Sept. 2000) 

32/5 Starkloff, Pilgrimage Re-envisioned (Nov. 2000) 

33/1 Kolvenbach et al., Faith, Justice, and American Jesuit Higher Education (Jan. 2001) 

33/2 Keenan, Unexpected Consequences: Parsons's Christian Directory (March 2001) 

33/3 Arrupe, Trinitarian Inspiration of the Ignatian Charism (May 2001) 

33/4 Veale, Saint Ignatius Asks, "Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" (Sept. 2001) 



NEW BOOK! 

The Road from 
La Storta 

Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J., 
on Ignatian Spirituality 



"The vision of La Storta has not been given to us 
so that we might stop to gaze at it. No, it is the 
light in which the Jesuit regards the whole world." 

These words are from a homily on the anniver- 
sary of St. Ignatius's vision at La Storta. Father 
Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, superior general of the 
Society of Jesus, challenges Jesuits and their 
associates to consider their mission as they follow 
Ignatius along the road from La Storta into the 
wide world. In this collection of twenty essays, 
Father Kolvenbach proposes ways of understand- 
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> ALL OTHER SUBSCRIPTIONS: 

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U.S.: one year, $18; two years, $35 

Canada and Mexico: one year, $26; two years, $50 

All other destinations: one year, $29; two years, $55 

*** All payments must be in U.S. funds. *** 



> CHANGE-OF-ADDRESS INFORMATION 

Change-of-address information (please include former address label 
if possible) should be sent to 

** ADDRESS CORRECTION** 

Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 
3601 Lindell Boulevard 
St. Louis, MO 63108 



> SINGLE ISSUES (Current or Past): 

The price for single copies of current or past issues is S3. 00, plus 
postage and handling charges. Double issues (for example, 5/1-2, 8/2-3, 9/1-2, 
etc.) are $6.00 each, plus postage and handling. 



The Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality 
3601 Lindell Boulevard 
St. Louis, MO 63108 



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Organization 
U.S. Postage 

PAID 

St. Louis, Missouri 
Permit No. 63 



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